


The Street Rat and the Samurai

by swords_and_roses



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Comfort Sex, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 29,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29581074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swords_and_roses/pseuds/swords_and_roses
Summary: V's got the hots for Saburo Arasaka's bodyguard since the moment she's laid eyes on him. 'Course, after talking to the gonk for five minutes, it's clear that's not gonna happen, but a girl can dream...Just thatsomehow, he ends up in her bed.That in itself is fine, better than fine, really. (Johnny hates it, of course, but it's not his fuckin' body, so he can shut the fuck up. (Not that he ever does, but that's what omega blockers are for, right?)Only, problem is, shelikeshim.  And he’s really too nice not to like her back.They both know that it's never gonna fly, of course. He's gonna go back to Arasaka, and V... will hopefully walk out of this shitshow alive. But they got a week before the parade in Japantown, and neither of them wants to think of that right now...*A story about star-crossed lovers. Or are they?*The first chapter starts afterGimme Danger. Disasterpiece has been completed, but neither the Voodoo Boys nor Rogue/Panam have been contacted.
Relationships: Goro Takemura/V
Comments: 101
Kudos: 96





	1. Love Like Fire (it's just sex)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ritawheeler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritawheeler/gifts).



> ### We are fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance (Japanese proverb)
> 
>   
>   
>   
>   
>   
> The first chapter starts after **Gimme Danger**. Disasterpiece has been completed, but neither the Voodoo Boys nor Rogue/Panam have been contacted.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invitin' Goro for a shower was a tremendously bad idea in hindsight, and V can't believe that she actually hit on the guy. But before she can die of embarrassment, she learns that she's apparently read him wrong...
> 
> Credit Roll: Of Monsters And Men - Mountain Sound

>   
>  Samurai: ( _Japanese_ ) Mercenary or muscle-for-hire. Implies code of honor. (Syn. Street samurai.)  
>  Samurai: ( _Japanese_ ) A corporate assassin or mercenary, hired to protect Corporation property (...) (a type of Solo)  
>  ~ Street Slang  
> 

“Here we are.” V steps into her apartment, looks around for anything that’d mortally embarrass her, and is pleasantly surprised to find no dirty underwear scattered on the floor. “Isn’t what you’re used to, but the shower’s workin’.”

Goro waits until she’s cleared the entrance before entering. Even as the door closes behind him his head swivels around; he takes in the single room, those pretty eyes never even flashing. Either he’s not scanning, or his optics can cloak it.

Whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it, turns towards her and sends an electric jolt through her spine with the intensity of his gaze. “Thank you, V. Truly.”

Instead of breaking eye contact and flushing like a nomad in a brothel, V manages a smile. It feels skewed even to herself. “Make yourself at home,” she offers and turns away to walk towards the sofa as if jumping him right here was not the more tempting option. “The bathroom’s on the left.”

_No kidding,_ she muses while Goro bows his head towards her and disappears inside her tiny bathroom. _If you do_ that _without warning, best option you’ll end up on the floor._ With his knee pressing against her back, and… _Might decommish you by reflex, and wouldn’t that be fun?_

As usual, Johnny SIlverhand materializes out of nowhere. “Jesus Christ on a stick, you’re disgusting.” The dead terrorist in her head is pacing, visibly exasperated this time. _Good._ “You’re _literally_ waiting for Arasaka to fuck you!” He throws up his arms, glaring. “Can you stop _creamin’_ for just one second?”

V wants nothing so much as to down an omega blocker to make him go away. But he’ll be a distraction from the guy in her bathroom.

_In her shower._

“Fucking shit, V, stop it! And cut back on the shotgun shells sometime!” Johnny’s in front of her all of a sudden, bent down to tower over her. With anyone else, she’d have flinched, but not with him - the rockerboy’s no longer random, not even while warping through her perception like a glitch in the optics. “Think of something else.” He plops down on the low table, an immaterial cigarette between his fingers. V, who hasn’t touched dope in years, hates the fact that she can smell the burning tobacco. She hates it even more that she _likes_ the smell. 

A distraction from her distraction: her thoughts circle back to Goro and the way _he_ smells, the familiar scent of guns and Wako’s tea and something spicy-exotic like that one type of preem kibble, but also not. 

“Stop thinkin’ with your cunt for just one second and remember your choom.” Johnny gets up to pace some more. “Jackie. Ring any bells? If Takemura’s not shot ‘im himself, he’s workin’ for the people who did!”

That wound still _hurts_ , and it’s never gonna stop. “Goro went off in the other direction with Smasher and Yorinobu. He wasn’t even _close_.” V loathes how rough her voice is. _I’m not even talkin’ out loud, for fuck’s sake!_ “Caught a bullet from the fuckin’ AV. Bled to death on the way out. How’d you call that? Occupational hazard...”

“You ain’t even buyin’ that yourself,” Johnny scoffs. “He’d’ve put ‘im down like a rabid dog, and he’ll do the same to you.”

_And he would._ “At least _he’d_ feel bad about it after!” she snaps, Kiroshi optics focussing through the sudden blur of rage while she fumbles for an omega blocker and swallows it dry. 

Just like that, Silverhand’s gone. 

Suddenly, the apartment feels claustrophobic, and V, who has never felt any discomfort in the cramped confines of Night City, can’t breathe. A single smoke would fix it, and that’s even worse.

_I’d rather die._

The shower is still going. V grabs the big gun and slings it over her shoulder, then hurries out of the apartment.

“I’m grabbing chow _.”_ It’s only a thought to text Goro, _who is in my bathroom and quite possibly not wearing anything right now._ The thought makes her breathe more quickly, but not more easily. “Back in ten. Feel right at home.”

This time at least he doesn’t ghost her. “My ‘home’ does not have a shower,” he writes. “Yours is better.”

*

Elias smiles when she leans on the 24/7’s counter in front of him, short dreads standing up like chubby fingers. He’s wearing a BD wreath that’s even more out of date than Johnny Silverhand. “V, hey, ‘s’been a while. Noodles?”

“Hey Ells. How’s Bartie?” She waves a sloppy salute and turns around so she can watch the corridor between her apartment and the lift. She doesn’t really expect Goro to sneak out without a word, but… _better safe than sorry?_

“Fine,” he smiles, folding open a takeaway box and moving the pan back to the middle of the heater, and V nods at his inquiring head tilt.

_Might as well ask._ “You got anything that’s not… y’know? Got someone over. Picky eater. Spoiled rotten.” “Sure, one ‘ganic salmon comin’ right up.” They both laugh at that.

The radio’s playing Samurai. V used to like the band, back then, ‘smuch as you can have an opinion on something that’s older than dirt. Recently, her feelings are more mixed. Johnny’s riffs carrying through, making her fingers itch. Only instruments she’s good with are blunt and heavy, yet the song makes her want to pick up a guitar and shred something other than gonks. 

*

V returns to her apartment with two plastic boxes full of noodles and _Never Fade Away_ stuck in her head, silently fuming: She knows the lyrics by heart, remembers _writing them_ , and it’s about that Alt fuckup Johnny’s hurting over, and not about a crazy ‘Saka ronin and a street rat, no matter how pretty his eyes.

_Heart wants what it wants_ , says the part of her that is Johnny. _Crotch_ , says the part that is V.

_I saw in you what life was missing_

_You lit a flame that consumed my hate_

_I'm not one for reminiscing but_

_I'd trade it all for your sweet embrace_

There’s still water running in the bathroom, although by now it’s the sink rather than the shower. She gives the bathroom door a wide berth, mindful of her guest’s privacy and the busted lock and her own risk of spontaneous combustion, hangs the big gun on its nail and tries to breathe shallowly. His scent’s all over the place. _Smart move would’ve been to click the switch outside,_ it occurs to her now that it’s too late - she’s not gonna risk Goro coming through that door to find her with her hands up her panties.

V puts the food down on the end table before throwing herself on the sofa. There’s none of Johnny’s junk around this time, yet when she opens the box with the noodles she finds herself too charged-up to be hungry.

She’s halfway through disassembling and cleaning her gun when the bathroom door opens. Goro is carrying his thick synthleather coat over his arm, and…

From the way his threads are sticking to his body, he’s taken them for a wash and hasn’t found the dryer function. She feels her mouth go dry and finds herself licking her lips, as if that would help.

“Are you alright, V?” There’s concern in his face, the Japanese accent a tad stronger than usual, and fuck, _he has no idea._ “Fine,” she manages. He’s _ripped_ , and given what he and Vik dropped about his chrome… _all that’s gotta be him. Shit._ “Brought chow for you too, if you’re hungry.” This time, the smile doesn’t feel as lopsided, but she can feel every beat of her heart in her entire body, a drumbeat centering in the molten heat between her thighs. _Fuck._

“There is no such thing as bad food when you are really hungry,” Goro agrees. “But I do not want to soak your furniture by sitting on it.”

“Don’t mind that,” she reassures him. _The sofa’s not the only thing that’s soaked because of you._

“I do not understand?” He sits down carefully after patting the seat, folding his hands in front of him, looking at her.

V can feel the blood rush to her face. “Uh - what?”

“You said the sofa was not the only thing that was soaked… because of me?” He tilts his head.

_I said that out loud? Oh fuck. Fuck…_ “I…” Her voice abandons her together with coherent thought. _Abort, abort._ At least she’s mortified now rather than horny. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m going to…” _I just… hit on Takemura. Sweet Jesus. And I omega blocked the only guy who can get me out of here._ She gets up, feeling as if the ground below her’s made of that fizzy blue shit that came with Johnny instead of being solid and proper. “I’ll take a shower. Cold.” _Very cold. Fuck, I have to salvage this somehow, what’s he gonna_ think? “Then I’ll… go out and take a good long walk, and when I come back… I’d like to pretend I never said that...?”

Takemura’s not even making eye contact, he appears uncomfortable, and V deltas into the bathroom, acutely aware all of a sudden that the door behind her won’t lock. Taking in his scent and her soap with every breath she takes, she kicks off her boots, dumps her gun in the sink and turns on the shower.

At first, the water is almost boiling hot, then it quickly chills to the point where it causes a dull ache in the top of her skull. V leans her forehead against the shower’s back wall and hopes for a miracle, for time to turn back, for another meganuke, anything but this.

Instead, there is the hiss of the opening bathroom door. 

A part of her still fantasizes. She knows how stupid that is - Goro Takemura is, after all, a perfect gentleman, certified by Wako herself, who - other than V - ‘sgot standards. He’d never just walk in here and fuck her against the wall, no matter how much she’d want that.

“From your reaction I think that I understand you correctly, V,” he lets her know. Way his voice sounds, he’s facing away from her, and she can all but see him in front of her: He will be standing next to the door, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him.

She can’t not answer, but her jaw muscles are locked tight and won’t let her speak. 

“I am honored, V.” _He will say ‘but’ now._ “But I have other… obligations in Japan.” A brief pause. “I hope you understand…?”

“Yeah.” Her voice’s a hoarse whisper, because no matter how gently he’s turned her down, he just did, and V swallows tears that come unbidden. _Lost count how often I’m fighting those…_ “I get it.” “Under other circumstances…” 

She can’t read his voice, other than that it is thick with something and that the accent is stronger. _Are you adding that to lemme save face or some sort of bullshit?_ “Wasn’t lookin’ for something long-term, Goro. Just… wanted to stop thinkin’ for a while.” _Don’t_ have _long-term._

There is a brief moment of silence, broken by his sigh. “Will you come out, V?” And after another heartbeat: “Please?”

“Sure,” she agrees mutedly. _Already made a complete fool out of myself._ It is surprisingly difficult to shove off the bathroom wall, as if her chrome has turned back to meat.

Goro stands outside of the room exactly as she knew he would, meeting her eyes only briefly before focussing his attention somewhere around her collarbones. V knows that she’s currently rocking the wet t-shirt look and is just glad - or sad? - that it’s not white. _The gonk’s even too decent to stare._

“I see that _you_ are soaked. That, too, is because of me?”

She can’t hold in the sound that’s breaking free at that and just hopes that he’ll take it as a laugh. “Could say so.” “Then perhaps I must atone for this,” he states matter-of-factly.

_The fuck?_ Is he joking again, or is he…but he can’t be flirting _back_ , right? “You really don’t.” The ice cold water had taken care of the flush, but now it’s back ‘cause this is awkward as hell. “Don’t owe me a thing…”

“Untrue,” the ronin quietly replies. “I have _giri-ninjo_ towards you, too.”

Her optics translate that as _obligation_ , and her heart skips yet another beat. “Same kind you've got back in Japan?”

For some reason, that draws a smile that she can’t read, and he meets her eyes, reflective irises catching the light like he’s a human cat. _Prettiest optics I’ve ever seen._ “No. Only _giri_ , there.”

Again, her optics translate that as _obligation_ , yet all V cares about is that her big mouth hasn’t ruined this. _Whatever_ this _is_. She feels faint with relief, or maybe that’s just the fucking butterflies rioting in her stomach. “So… you tellin’ me you got no one waiting in Japan?”

The blue reflection of his gaze is snuffed out like a candle when the ronin looks away. “Not in the way you are asking.” Something in his words makes her wince. “No. There is nobody waiting for me.” Takemura meets her eyes again, calm once more. “But that changes nothing.”

V always knew that he’s not that kind of guy. This letdown was predictable, and Johnny’s warned her, repeatedly. It still hurts. “Wasn’t asking you to run off to the Badlands with me, Goro.” _Though I’d sure like to. We’d be major league, you and I. Canned food and campfires, sleepin’ in the back of your truck, hot-bunk like. Lone wolves ‘thoutha clan. If only we were other people._ He’s pulled her out of a landfill and seen Vik cutting a bullet out of her brain. Her grin comes unbidden ‘cause that’s how V has always hidden pain. “Didn’t even mean to say that out loud. Just forget about it, ‘kay?” She keeps herself busy looking at the tips of her toes, synthflesh over titanium.

“V…” It’s just that his voice sounds different, even rougher than usually. It sends a shiver all the way down her spine, but it’s bittersweet and cuts her heart like monowire, straight out of a tacky sob-story flick. At least she’s no longer horny, despite the fact that she can smell him, so close and fresh from the shower. She’s embarrassed, yeah, but at least he’s still talkin’ to her. _He’s even too decent to give me shit ‘bout this._

“Perhaps I must atone for this,” Goro repeats, emphasizing every word. The usual harsh edges are completely gone from his voice. 

She’d have missed it again if not for the fact that he takes a step towards her.

Only twice before has he touched her without needing to. That time on Vik’s operating table she’s probably dreamed, but he’s put his hand on her shoulder, back in Tom’s Diner when she wanted to walk away. Otherwise Goro keeps himself well out of melee range, and when that isn’t possible, some obstacle between himself and his opposite.

Not this time. This time, he’s right in front of her, close enough to reach out.

V jerks up her head to stare at him in disbelief, and his eyes meet hers for only a second before drifting back to her collarbones. Saying it out loud feels _unreal_. “Are you… are you _askin’_ me?”

His lips twitch into the hint of a smile that she can’t read because those butterfly gonks are at it again. “Perhaps you have changed your mind,” he suggests. “As we have already established, you are currently drenched.”

“You got no idea,” she replies hoarsely and steps forward as well, heart pounding like a fist on a door she’s never seen before, blood rushing south.

*

The first thing that touches are their hands, and it’s ‘lectric shocks again all the way through her body. He’s wearing shoes and she isn’t, so he’s slightly taller. Neither of them needs to bend down for kissing, and his lips are warm and dry when they touch hers. His beard is pricking her skin; she’s never kissed a guy with a beard before, _major buzzkill, that._

Not this time.

Even without anyone’s tongue being involved, that’s all it takes to switch her cunt back to overdrive, and now she can feel her heartbeat there as _well,_ even as she explores his lips with the tip of her tongue - _is kissing Goro, is kissing Saburo fuckin’ Arasaka’s fuckin’ bodyguard for fuck’s sake_ \- until they open to allow her access.

Rather than fondling or groping her, he keeps his fingers entwined with hers, effectively blocking both of them from moving past increasingly involved kissing. She’s no idea if that’s his kink or if he’s being accommodating again, so she guides his hands to her hips before grabbing his belt. He’s fine with her taking the lead, and V desperately wishes he’d stop being polite for just five minutes. _After that he can go as slow as he wants…_ At least he’s putting his arm around her waist now, as gently as if she was fragile, which she’s not.

She almost whimpers when his body touches hers. Goro’s solid and hard against her, his shirt no longer damp until it gets in contact with hers. _Always knew he was hot…_ _didn’t think it’d be literal._ She presses against him, finding something else that’s hard and hot and behind too many layers of clothing, hears him draw a single sharp breath against her cheek. Then V has to back away because she’s so charged that she’s gonna blow up if anything touches the trigger, and she needs him _inside_ for that.

She isn’t getting anywhere with his belt, being this close to him, but that doesn’t stop her from trying, and he backs away just enough to give her a chance while his other hand’s caressing the strip of exposed skin between her pants and her shirt. She stretches to allow him better access, undoes his pants before moving back in to press her stomach against his cock that’s straining against his underwear, and his breathing gets slightly faster. It’s not fair - at this point, her cunt is throbbing with every beat of her heart, she _needs_ , and how’s he not feeling the same way? Not once in her entire life has she been this turned on. _Always thought those BDs were edited. Fuck..._

By now he’s at least holding her firmly enough to count, so she snatches his other hand and guides it up her soddy shirt. The synthflesh of his fingers is softer than that on hers and feels amazing on her breast, her nipple perking up even before they make contact. Another jolt of lightning arcs from her chest to her cunt like she’s some fucking... tesla coil, or whatchacallit. She can’t see his face, he’s too close, but she buries hers against his neck, his endoskeleton’s ablative plastic cooler than his skin. There’s a ‘Saka label directly in front of her and she presses her lips on that because _fuck you, Johnny._

The water has glued her pants to her hips and she’d shred them if she could, but they’re armour and that ain’t gonna work. The only thing saving her from frustration is Goro, who’s finally taking some initiative and gives her a hand, the other still cupping her boob. With his help, she is able to wriggle out of her threads to the point where the metal of her calves doesn’t stick.

She pulls the shirt over her head and dumps it on the floor, then turns back just to find him watching her face. _The fuck is wrong with him?_ _Every other guy would be inspecting the display._ He’s even more attractive like this, so she goes in again to strip him, finding to her dismay that his shirt’s fastened by roughly seven million tiny buttons. The molten core between her thighs is still throbbing in tune with her heartbeat, making her want to tear the obstacle away, but she doesn’t think he’s got many spares. 

Her groan of protest draws out a quiet chuckle, and then both of his hands are over hers, opening one button after another with practiced ease; but of course he’s wearing something else under _that_ and she’s got to let go of him so he can get it over his head. 

V takes a step towards her bed, enjoying the view and hating the delay: the gonk’s holding his shirt, looking as if he was waiting for someone to hang that up for him. He’s about as ripped as she’d figured, and obviously Vik’s pulled most of his implants, so… yeah. All that’s gotta be real. The endoskeleton barely reaches past his throat, so that’s one question answered and the one where that’s making no sense has to wait. Any chrome he still packs is covered in synth flesh - and either ‘Saka pays for hair follicles, or anything below the navel’s ‘ganic. 

V licks her lips. “You comin’?” Her voice is hoarse, and sudden insecurity makes her want to close in again, just in case: what if he reconsiders? She forces herself to take another step away, sits down on the bed, resisting the urge to draw in her shoulders: he’s gonna delta any second now. Instead, she arches her back and throws back her head to put her assets on display, and _this_ time he’s looking. 

All she wants him to do is to _finally_ get on the bed and fuck her, but instead he’s keeping hands and shirt between his cock and the world, and she’s never seen _that_ look on his face before. 

Her stomach drops all the way to the bottom of the megabuilding. Yeah, he’s gonna delta. _Gotta have changed his mind…_

But then his cat eyes catch the light as he nods, and _that smile on his face…_ He kneels, puts his shirt down as if dropping it’d break it, but he needs to get off his boots anyway so that’s okay. “I am coming,” he answers.

_When?!?_ She bites her lips, but now he sits on the bed, turned away to get out of his pants so all she can see is his back, which isn’t half bad to look at either, endoskeleton covering his spine _and he prob’ly can’t feel a thing there_. _Is that why…?_

After forever - every heartbeat hammering a counter in her ears - Goro’s _finally_ done getting outta those pants, and when he turns, V’s optics only find more ‘ganic flesh rather than the Mr. Stud Combat Edition. ‘Saka appears to keep out of _some_ things, and fuck them anyway, it’s bad enough that he’s running around with their brand on his neck. 

The samurai’s smiling with his eyes only and that’s a much prettier sight and whatever, chrome’s for function and not for fashion, and the same’s for the ‘ganic shit, too. V reaches out for him, increasingly frantic, and whether the mood has finally caught or if he’s just being polite again, Goro eagerly complies.

She’s panting, every breath a moan, but once she’s wrapped her legs ‘round his hips, there’s really only one way his cock can go. She’s so wet that there’s barely any friction - which saves her for the moment, until she learns why guys were given pubes and what a gonk move it was of everyone she’s ever fucked to have none. 

She thinks her Kerenzikov’s goin’ off. 

V’s never come so hard in her entire life, and the porn flick BD has nothing on this ‘cause it’s real. He’s trying to back off, probably trying to last, but she _needs_ and anyway they can always go again; she crosses her ankles and presses her heels against him so that he can’t pull out. She’s blowing up harder than Johnny’s gonk nuke, and Goro’s right there with her, the other half of this critical mass. 

He pulls her around before he collapses, rather than doing that on top of her, and V’s never been so glad for the reinforced tendons and their added flexibility, ‘cause she never wants to move a muscle again. Her ear ends up against his shoulder, and she can hear his heartbeat, now that her own’s calming down. It takes only a minute until hers is in sync, and she dozes in a haze of ‘ganic dorph. Then Goro shifts under her, and that startles her awake enough to look at him.

Somehow, his eyes are smiling even though the rest of his face looks concerned. His bun has taken some damage, and his hair is coming loose. Despite the effort, V has to learn if it feels the way it looks, and when her fingers brush the black and silver strands she finds them much thicker than her own, but softer than expected. 

Her smile spreads like an air hypo, and Goro’s lips twitch in response, worry draining away. She cranes her neck to kiss them, and he draws up his shoulder to support her, other arm around her waist. Every joint she can see has seams; he must’ve been cybered up to the tips of his ears before Vik took it out.

He reaches out to caress her face, and she leans into his touch, the exposed gold of his finger joints cooler than the synthskin around it. Now that she has time to ogle him without having to play it cool, she notices that his eyes aren’t blue, that’s just the reflecting iris. Below that there’s a second layer of a much darker colour, and right now the mirrored hue’s like sunlight and neon.

Neither of them is talking. For the first time in weeks, the wounds Johnny tore open aren’t hurting. V shies away from the complex tangle of pain and anger like a Samurai song and buries her face against Goro’s neck.

But not before he’s noticed.

“This was a poor attempt at recompense,” he tells her, voice rumbling against her skin to all sorts of interesting side effects. “Do not be sad. The next one will be better.”

She can’t help but laugh. “Just the best sex of my life, nothin’ special…” V raises her head to look at the only _real_ samurai she knows, who is _in her bed_ among other places, “stop sellin’ yourself short!” _Bed’s gonna smell like him when he’s gone._ She feels a sudden pang at that and smiles it away.

Goro’s eyes are smiling once more behind that stern facade. “Another Night City thing, then? ‘Scraping scraps out of scop tins’?” He scoffs. “One day, I will show you real food.”

Usually, V’d feel insecure enough about this to lash out, draw a line in the sand just in case. It’s something she hates ‘bout herself, the constant need to stand her ground. But never with Goro - he’s never once made her bristle. Instead, the way he says that, quoting her own words back at her, just makes her laugh: “Are you hungry? ‘Cause I got chow for us both… ‘fore we got sidetracked.”

He raises his chin, turns his head away—a lord’s haughty decline of something beneath his notice—before sinking back against the pillow. _Fuck, he’s so handsome._ V trails her fingers along his cheekbone. _You’ve lost weight, haven’t you?_

“Your ‘chow’ cannot lure me away,” Goro kindly informs her before he leans in to kiss her, bolder now, or perhaps less shell-shocked ‘cause she’s no longer throwing herself at him like a joytoy when rent’s due. 

“Glad to hear...” _At least I’m more appealing than noodles._ V sits up at his gentle urging, and he angles his legs to support her. She runs her hand over his chest, finding his nipple perk up and smiles at it. 

Reflective optics follow her gaze and he chuckles. “Arasaka surgeons would not have included these.”

“‘ave Viktor to thank for that, then?” _Gotta do that some time._ She arches her back, bends over his chest to kiss it, testingly licks over the aforementioned area and sees it react just ass specified. “Mmh. Had been wondering…” V trails a line of kisses towards the endoskeleton and runs her lips along the seam where it’s fused with his skin.

“The plates have saved my life.” Goro nods earnestly, his bun coming fully undone at the motion. “But they were too badly damaged.”

She _has to_ straighten out the strands and is surprised to find his hair longer than hers. Sitting up, V smiles at him: “Took a few bullets for me that day…”

The samurai averts his eyes. “Yorinobu’s assassins came for me, not for you. We were lucky.”

_Shit… sore point, and I stepped right into that._ V grinds her hips against him as a distraction. “Talkin’ dirty’s a bit better than slappin’, but not much,” she drawls and is pleased to see him chuckle after a second of confusion.

“Let us not talk about these things, V,” he agrees.

The way Goro says her name is giving her goosebumps, a word rather than a letter, and she arches her back, feeling him move inside her. “Let’s not talk,” she agrees, then clears her throat. 

His hand wanders up her spine to rest on her neck. “Your wishes are the same thing as orders to me,” he replies, and only the glimmer in his eyes indicates that he’s joking. 

V moans when his hand finds her breast once more. “Best gotta shut up,” she replies, and then she does.


	2. A Castle Built On Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Vee in his arms, Goro finds the kind of peace again that had been eluding him ever-since he has come to Night City. 
> 
> But such things are cherry blossoms in the storm.
> 
> _Building a castle on sand: Japanese proverb._

For once in this city forsaken by the gods Goro has no difficulties to find the quiet place inside himself. The silence eases a soreness he was forced to ignore for too long. 

_Kenjataimu_ indeed _._

_*_

Every breath carries Vee’s scent into his _tanden_ : flower, bird, wind, moon. Chrome petals reflecting the neon light on a peak higher than hope.

And yet.

She makes him feel young again.

Hair pale like Fujiyama’s peak in summer tickles his face and catches in his beard when Goro tries to turn his face away. He runs his palm over the silky strands; static electricity makes them stick to his palm. Vee leans into his touch, her lips curling into a smile. She mutters something, nuzzling her face against his biceps, and he turns so that she can be more comfortable. 

Beauty and fortune rarely go together. On the surface, there is nothing to see of what is killing her. _Mono no aware._ Goro is not a poet. He has never understood. 

Carefully, he pulls her closer. She hooks her leg over his, sticking to him like a burr. There is no sign of a man in her bathroom, only _maneki-neko_ on the sink, and a gun.

She is an enthusiastic lover, and has been almost insatiable. Now she sleeps deeply in his arms. The walls are thick. Goro can not hear the neighbours. Perhaps that means the neighbours have not heard Vee.

Their bodies are still joined.

*

They both are woken rudely, but Goro does not complain - he is not the one to cough blood. Instead, he wraps his arms around Vee, supporting her ribcage. She covers her mouth with her hand, racked by coughs for a long time. It is the worst such fit that he has ever seen. 

When she finally stops, she lets herself fall against him, draws a laboured breath. Viktor-san would know what to do - an air hypo? Oxygen? Bionic lungs? Goro can only cup her head against his neck and let her hide her face for as long as she needs to.

Eventually, Vee sits up, her smile crooked and self-deprecating. “Not how I wanted to wake you…” she grates, then clears her throat and coughs once more. She wipes her hand on her sinewy thigh, trailing bright red traces on skin rich like _buna_ wood.

A poet could find beauty in this: More evidence that he is not one of these. He can only exhale, face the craven terror in his heart, acknowledge it, and let it go.

It is surprisingly difficult. 

He wants to wipe the blood away - if not the _bakeneko_ that haunts her, at least its marks on her. A samurai uses a toothpick, even if he has not eaten. He will not shame her with his pity. And so he pretends to ignore the blood on her skin right until she herself looks at it with a wry smile.

“Gotta get myself a new lung,” she tells him, “this one’s ‘bout to decommish…” “I had been thinking the same,” he replies. “You know life in every breath, Vee.”

The compliment makes her sad. Although her mouth keeps smiling, her eyes give her away. They have the wrong shape, and they are blue. Gaijin eyes, round and huge like a child’s. She is not a child. Abruptly, she turns away and climbs off him. “Gotta wash that taste outta my mouth,” she informs him, and disappears into the bathroom.

Perhaps a buddha would be indifferent to the sway of her hips. Goro is not one of those, either.


	3. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the day starts with coughing blood, it usually only goes downhill from there. Of course, usually there's no Goro in the apartment.
> 
> _Credit Roll: Maureen McGovern - Morning After_

Some guys like watching themselves run down their input’s thighs—but with that damned bloody handprint on the outside of her thigh, V’s certain that Goro won’t even notice. 

_Fuck._

She can feel his optics on her back while she walks into the bathroom, spine straight as if she wasn’t dying; as if she wasn’t coughing her lungs out, her brain turning to _literal_ pulp. Washing off the blood takes less than a minute. Waiting until she is certain that she can face him takes longer.  
_Goro’s way of turning my skull sponge to jelly’s so much nicer than Johnny’s,_ she thinks and snaps herself out of it so she doesn’t cry. The bathroom door doesn’t lock and the last thing she needs is the samurai finding her like this. _Would delta the fuck outta here. Couldn’t blame him._ V stares at herself in the mirror. _You’re a fuckin’ mess, and he’s a nice guy. ‘S’much the opposite as it gets. Sayin’ something ‘bout you, that a brainwashed corpo dog’s more mentally stable than you are!_ She’s gonna ruin him - by dying if nothing else. She should break this off. 

In the time she’s wasted standing around in the bathroom, Goro has picked up their scattered clothes and tidied them away. Her shirt apparently qualifies for the laundry basket. The samurai has put on his briefs again and tied his hair back up, idly watching something beside her. Said thing moves when she does, though. 

He does not appear uncomfortable, sitting on the side of her rumpled bed wearing next to nothing. Of course he has no reason to. When he notices her looking, Goro turns his face away to gaze out of the window, where raindrops are running down the glass. “You do not have a kitchen,” he states before she can say anything about breaking things off.

“Got a microwave,” V answers, padding to the window on bare feet. The symptoms are worse after each fit, pain in her chest and the headache from the relic trying to kill her, but at the same time she feels an entirely different, _pleasant_ kind of soreness in her muscles that makes up for it. There’s a gonk in a suit on the roof terrace across the block, but he’s too self-absorbed to even look this way, and besides, it’s just boobs. 

“Both these things are true.” 

V laughs at his deadpan delivery, stifling a cough once more. He’s within melee range of a vending machine, which he completely and utterly ignores. “Chow’s still good - we can just heat it up. Microwave’s up to that. Or, could go out, grab something else to eat...” _Kibble ain’t food either, I guess…_

“This ‘chow’ will be as bad as any other.” Goro stands up and smiles at her, then walks over to the microwave and looks into one of the delivery boxes. The set of his shoulders indicates that he’s not excited. V can’t see his face, too distracted by the bruise on his lower back, right above his - _damned fine -_ ass. It’s about the right size and position for her heels to have been the cause, and she feels her cheeks heating up. “Didn’t mean to bruise you…”

He half-turns to look over his shoulder, eyes lingering on V for a moment. It’s enough to make her heart beat faster. Then he breaks eye contact to glance down his back. “That is nothing. A mark of pride.”

 _Aw?!_ “Which of the two?” she teases. 

Goro opens the cupboard to find a bowl, pours the contents of the delivery box inside and spaces them out around an empty spot in the middle. _Guess some cookin’ has to be involved for him._ Then he places it inside the microwave and turns it on. “A soldier learns to ignore pain and discomfort,” he tells her, then his entire face lights up with a smile that turns her legs into rubber, startles the gonk butterflies, and heats up her cunt. “And if this fails, I will think of how it came to be.” 

_Never’d have pegged you for a flirt, but fuck me if you didn’t just._ V licks her lips while watching him. Goro prepares a second bowl of chow and puts it down in front of the microwave as if he hadn’t just been smoother than polished chrome. _Or just fuck me, I guess._ “Isn’t exactly my kink, that’s all,” she mutters, leaning against the windowsill.

His blink is distinctly cat-like. “It is not my ‘kink’ either,” he agrees.

V’d like to press the issue, but the microwave beeps and the chance’s lost. Goro swaps the plates, places a set of chopsticks on top, and carries everything over to her. The way he’s offering it feels oddly formal, and she finds herself reaching out with both hands as well, although in truth more for him than for the chow he’s holding. “Thank you.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” He turns around to walk back to the microwave. “Please, Vee, eat while it is hot.”

She hasn’t been trying to be polite as much as staring, but leans on the windowsill to eat. Goro recovers his own meal from the microwave and walks to the sofa, sits down before taking a mouthful of ramen. The look of disgust on his face is almost funny. “Not your thing?” V asks.

“There are even bugs that eat knotweed,” Goro replies morosely. It takes visible effort for him to hold down the second mouthful of ramen, then he stabs his chopsticks into the noodles and drops the bowl on the table hard enough that more expensive stuff’d have broken. After glaring at it for a few heartbeats, he reaches over and angles the chopsticks against the rim.

V’s heart turns into a puddle. She puts her own chow aside and walks over to the vending machine to get him a protein bar, picking the twenty-five eddies military one. When she pads over to the samurai on her sofa, it takes a moment before he looks up. “Figured, what’s good ‘nough for Saburo Arasaka is good enough for you,” she states and offers him the field ration.

From the way his eyes light up, it might’ve been Yorinobu’s head on a platter. He reaches out with both hands to take it from her as if it was precious. “Again you are saving my life, V.”

“It’s just Militech stuff, not ‘Saka brand,” she deflects with a smile.

Goro opens the silvery foil and bites into the flavourless protein paste as if he had been starving, chewing the indistinct biomass with an expression suspiciously close to bliss. He makes an appreciative noise that she’s _not_ heard from him during last night’s exercise, but rather than wolfing down the food, takes his time to chew as if he’s actually enjoying it. She plops down next to him on the couch and helps herself to his chow.

“They come out of those vending machines?” he asks after he’s done eating the nutrient bar. “I did not know that.”

“Yeah, they’re classified as drugs rather than meals, though.” V gestures towards the VM. 

With a nod, Goro stands up and walks to the vending machine. “They are expensive.”

 _You that broke, samurai?_ “‘S’on me.” She joins him, hesitates for a second before slipping an arm around his hip, and reaches past him to push the button. The vending machine subtracts the eddies, and the ration bar drops into the slot. Just for good measure, V presses a few more times.

He intercepts her hand after the fourth bar tumbles out of the vending machine, turning towards her and making her spin in the process. It would be easy not to since he’s not even closed his fingers, all she’d have to do is take her hand away, but to be honest, she _digs_ it. 

Goro smiles with his eyes, puts his arm around her hips, an invitation to step closer more than actually pulling her, and she eagerly follows. “Thank you, V,” he says, and for some reason she thinks he’s embarrassed, although he doesn’t break eye contact.

She does that for him, then. “Noticed you’ve been losin’ weight,” V observes casually and leans her face against the endoskeleton covering his neck. _Need to play this down. It ain’t as if I could take any of that with me, might as well burn it all._ “Prefer you the way you are…”

For just one blissful moment, the arm around her waist pulls her against him, hard. She eagerly complies, wraps her arms around him to do what he won’t, moaning quietly.

“You like this?” Bless him, Goro’s caught on, strong arms around her waist pressing her against him. 

His quiet chuckle at her reaction runs through her entire body, and she moans again. _Could fuck my brains right out, samurai. Please do?_

“Tell me what to do.”

The quiet certainty in his voice is about as hot as the rest of him. “Please fuck me?” her hind brain replies before the rest of her has even parsed the question. He laughs again. “But only because you said ‘please’.” His voice is so warm that she’d love to look at his face, but he takes a step forward, and with the way he holds her she has no choice but to follow or break free. That puts her right where she was last night, just that he wants more _too_ ,so maybe it’s not just a one-off, a two-off..? _Maybe this is a mainline._

But then, V’s _dying_ , and if she wasn’t, she’d never even be doing this. _Don’t even have an implant - need to see Vik asap, can’t catch another fuckin’ tapeworm..._

The back of her legs meets the bed, metal calves somehow turning different kinds of pressure into sensory input - or the next best thing, really. She’s glad that the ripperdoc’s talked her into synthskin. Goro leaves her every opportunity to twist outta his grip, but that’s the last thing she wants. A moan escapes her lips when he beds her down as if her bones were made of hollow glass rather than titanium, and then he slides over her and kisses down her jaw, her chest, across her stomach, towards the pent-up heat between her legs. His beard grazes her skin every now and then, a scratchy counterpoint to the softness of his kisses.

“Not like that…” she whines, and his chuckle against her skin gives her goosebumps right down to her chrome toes. His lips stop teasing her thigh and he straightens himself to meet her eyes. “Indulge me, V?” he asks, and she knows that it’s not a rhetorical question. “Fine...” she mutters, and not ten seconds later his tongue’s on her trigger and his fingers slip inside of her; expertly, with just one push he sets her off. She holds onto the sheets ‘till the world’s stopped spinning. 

“I am here.” 

Goro is no longer between her thighs but next to her now, his left hand wandering over her torso, fingertips following the curve of her breast. She turns towards him, hooks a leg over his and finds that he’s still hard, pressing against her stomach when she melts closer. “Changed your mind?” V asks, heart in her throat and stomach falling freely despite the fact that he’s pressing against her rather than drawing away.

His other hand has made its way to the small of her back, and at her question, pulls her closer. “No,” he replies simply. 

She laughs, hating how shaky it sounds. Goro’s cat eyes catch the light as they find hers, reflective blue over dark brown merging into neon gold. For a moment, V wonders what he’s seeing right now, if he’s really looking right into her soul, but then he casts down his eyes and moves closer to kiss her. _You can’t see through me, samurai,_ she thinks. _You’d see Johnny, and then you’d delta all the way back to Japan._

“I merely wish to enjoy you, V, and you are… too enticing.” That word hadn’t even been part of her active vocabulary. _Night City stock’d have gone for ‘hot’._ “What’d you want me to do?” she repeats his earlier question, ‘cause that’s been a good one. “Do nothing,” Goro answers. “Just lie back and stop thinking.” 

The sincerity in his face could make her cry, so V kisses him some more, and then she does what he’d asked of her.


	4. Jumping from the Kiyomizu stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sleeping woman in his arms, Goro ponders what has happened between them and what this means for him.  
> It cannot change what he must do, but it becomes harder. 
> 
> Nonetheless, the samurai enjoys a moment of - albeit thoughtful - peace.
> 
> But when Vee opens her eyes, it is not the thief who is looking at him...
> 
> _See notes at the end of the chapter for context about the title._

Ten thousand rubs - the process of a woman bringing herself pleasure.

Vee, by contrast, needs ten. 

He is self-aware enough to take no credit for this. She is a candle that has become aware of the wind and is burning more fiercely in defiance, even in her sleep - and young, unlike him.

And yet.

When Saburo-sama picked him out of a hundred elite soldiers, he elevated Goro above all of his peers. That honour is gone, has been replaced by shame. Oda was right. I am an oathbreaker, a failure, worthless and old. A younger man, someone like her, might have saved Arasaka-sama where I could not.

But Vee looks at him as if he was bright and beautiful like her, and she called his name when he made her go.

More than once.

The loose morals of the gaijin are proverbial in Japan. She is even blonde.

Yet would a ‘proper’ woman have enjoyed herself this much? Would such a woman have given herself to him the way Vee has, the world in the bowl of her hands? 

Perhaps a wife, if a man was blessed.

Goro’s life belongs to Arasaka. Honour demands that he pay it back. 

First, revenge.

There is no room in it for a woman - not even for this illusion that they both have… created for themselves. The parade in Japantown is only days away; this will be over then, one way or another.

Giving his life in the pursuit of his goal is worthwhile. A fair death honours a whole life. Jumping on Hanako-sama’s float, talking to her - if he dies, then the stain on his honour will not be wiped away, but he will be content. 

For most of his life, Goro has begun and ended his days like a man already dead, with nothing to lose. 

This has changed.

It is a surprise. His desire to live is strong like the roots of a mountain. This will make it harder, when the time comes.

There is no escape from the web of heaven. He will do what he must.

Right now, that is pulling Vee closer, to bury his face in her white _kiku no hana_ hair, breathing her scent: the dream of ume fragrance buried beneath the chemical stench of Night City, the toxins in her food, the medicine she takes to fend off her _bakeneko_.

He did not think this would wake her, but it does. She frees herself with an irritated sound, and he lets go of her at once. 

Rather than the indolent smirk that he’s come to expect on her face, her pupils dilate as if her optics were zooming, and every muscle in her body tenses. She flashes an arrogant sneer that completely changes her features, sky-blue eyes cold and aloof like stars. On instinct, he untangles his leg from hers, and she lets go.

“Well, well, well,” she drawls, the tone and pitch of her voice different from the Night City cadence that he’s become used to. “Never in a million years’d I’ve ‘xpected to wake up next to literal fuckin’ ‘Saka. ‘Least this time my ass isn’t sore.”

Goro rolls away from the stranger in Vee’s body and shoves his hand up the side of the mattress where she keeps her handgun. His ballistic link instantly makes the connection; the Constitutional Arms Liberty (Kongou) is loaded, calibrated, and ready to fire.

_And then what? Shoot Vee, if this person attacks me?_

He ejects the magazine, pulls the gun out of its hiding place and throws it across the room on the sofa. The thief’s stolen body does not flinch, is glaring at him instead. 

“Engram-san,” Goro says. “We have not been introduced.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> # Context for the chapter title
> 
> A popular stunt during the Edo period, the expression “to jump off the stage of Kiyomizu” still resonates centuries later as a Japanese euphemism for risk-taking or ‘taking the plunge’. More than 200 people risked their lives jumping off the terrace attached to the temple, believing that if they survived their wish would come true.
> 
> https://travel.gaijinpot.com/kiyomizu-dera-temple/
> 
> # kiku no hana:
> 
> Chrysanthemum, general symbolism:
> 
>   * White: a funeral flower
>   * Red: (romantic) love or the strongest affection
> 

> 
> but also
>
>> The camellia is an early spring flower native to Asia. In Japanese, this flower is known as tsubaki. They were very popular with nobles during the Edo Period. Among warriors and samurai, the red camellia symbolized a noble death. Otherwise, the red camellia means love. However, they don’t make good presents for people who are sick or injured because of the way the flowers “behead” themselves when they die.
> 
> [source](https://theculturetrip.com/asia/japan/articles/hanakotoba-the-secret-meanings-behind-9-flowers-in-japan/)
> 
> https://www.faburiq.com/blog/2015/2/24/kiku  
> https://nicjapanese.com/column/kiku/


	5. The Ballad of Buck Ravers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not in a million years would Johnny've thought to wake up next to _literal fuckin' Arasaka_. Wouldn't be the first time that they fucked 'im, but... this is takin' it too far. 
> 
> He's somehow gotta make sure the corpo dog stays away from V before she gets her heart ripped out. Bein' at gunpoint makes that kinda awkward, though.

Unlike Kerry fuckin’ Eurodyne, who sold out even harder than V, Johnny’s never been anyone’s input in his entire life, not even back in the wild days. Only person he’s ever woken up next to’s Alt, _and we all know how that ended._ For a moment the nausea’s as bad as his hangover. _Not my body_ , he tells himself while V’s joytoy throws her weapon across the room, _not my problem._

_Got fucked by ‘Saka before._

The fact that despite the adrenaline he feels as if he was on dorph doesn’t help a bit ‘cause V’s someone who gets her high from exercise and adrenaline, the chrome junkie. Can only mean one thing, really, and Johnny Silverhand is not prepared to follow this trail of thought. _Shiiiit..._

“Know who you are, corpo dog,” he buys time. “Know all I need.” _Sweet Jesus, why can’t she be gay, or at least fuck anyone else in this fuckin’ city?_ Johnny’s naked and unarmed. So’s the other guy - _the other guy, Jesus Christ -_ but he’s not confident that he can take him hand-to-hand. _With the gun… but nah._ At least his opponent has balls that he could kick and he hasn’t. _‘S it as bad if you’re punched in the boobs?_ He can barely keep from throwing up.

Takemura turns to the side, hip between Johnny’s foot and the only spot where he can take him out for good. There’s an opening now, and he deltas from the bed. Lacking proper cover, he dives for the gun—but when he comes up, he’s staring up a muzzle himself. _Who even has two guns in one bed? What sorta kink is that?_ Johnny loads his weapon nonetheless, and of course it’s empty. _Fuck!_

“Okay, listen, this is important,” he drawls, as if his gun wasn’t empty and as if the other man didn’t know. “You stay the fuck away from V.”

The corpo dog doesn’t move a muscle, the muzzle of his gun pointing straight at Johnny’s heart, and he knows he’s being tagged by V’s fancy optics. _Point blank range. Only reason I’m not dead’s V._ Takemura’s every bit as ripped as he’d expected, and being caught in a body that barely reaches his own former weight class ‘cause its bones are titanium… _I’m so done for._ The reflective eyes never leave his face, and whatever she sees in that guy, right now it’s not there: just Saburo Arasaka’s bodyguard with a gun trained on him. 

“That is not your decision.” The answer’s as calm as if they were sitting on a conference table rather than facing each other at gunpoint.

“Yeah? She’s barely old enough to drink and you’re takin’ advantage of her.” Another proof that V’s blind and deaf where the corpo gonk’s concerned: Any decent guy with that much grey hair at least would’ve blinked. _Hell, if she’s got a daddy kink, why not go for Viktor?_

Not so Takemura: the only sign that he’s heard Johnny at all is that he replies. “I will not discuss this with you,” he flatly states, the gun never wavering. “Your name. Now.”

Johnny points his empty gun at the ceiling, deescalating. “Gonna get up now. Get myself a few pills. Grab a drink. Don’t shoot your input.” Even as he turns away to walk towards the pills on the shelf, he can feel the gun aimed at his back, and those eyes—a burning itch between his shoulder blades. He walks over to the counter where V stores the omega blockers and shakes two of them onto his palm. Then, he turns around. _Go out with a bang._ “Might remember the last time ‘Saka didn’t keep their hands off a chick I liked,” he tells the corpo hitman, trying to sound as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Didn’t go so well for ‘em.”

“Arasaka has no business abducting women,” the gonk tells him as if he believes that. _So he’s either a liar or naive. Typical. Corpo…_

“Right,” Johnny scoffs. “Tell that to Alt Cunningham.” 

The name strikes a nerve. Sure, everyone’s heard about that, was on the news and screamsheets all over the world. “That was decades ago,” Takemura says. “Who are you?”

He feels the smile spread across his face. “Might’ve heard of me,” he says and pops the omega blockers in, dry. “Name’s Johnny, Johnny Silverhand. Ring any bells?”

Then, the world fades, and the enemy in the room’s no longer his problem.


	6. Angel of the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting the dead terrorist in Vee's head, Goro can no longer stay in her apartment. He leaves her with a heavy heart, struggling with what just happened.
> 
> Theme song: [Merrilee Rush - Angel of the Morning](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24rYz9QAvdQ)
> 
> _Content warning: Goro's radio station might play this_

The peace that Goro had found here shatters like a teacup hit by a bullet. Only years of training keep his hand steady, the disabled weapon never straying from Vee’s heart. 

_Johnny Silverhand._

She - he - the _terrorist!?_ \- grins unpleasantly as if he’s made his point, then V’s eyes roll back as she collapses. Once more, training prevents him from freezing, and he almost makes it before her limp form hits the floor.  
_Almost_. 

Goro feels numb while he gathers Vee into his arms and carries her to the bed.   
_The_ bakeneko _is Silverhand?!_

“Why have you not told me?” he whispers, choked by something that he cannot name. He has spoken Japanese, but she has not heard him at all, does not move a muscle. Just her regular breathing proves that she is not dead.   
_Is she drowning in blood right now?_   
With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Goro scans her. His optics report that the oxygen in her blood is sufficient, yet he lays her down and puts his ear to her chest to make sure.  
The crackling sound that he has been dreading is there, but it is very faint. Vee will not die today, not of this.

The relief is dizzying, but the fact remains that she is dying, that the chip in her head is killing her, that the engram is overwriting her personality until she is gone. That the engram is _Johnny Silverhand_ , the terrorist. 

Vee does not stir, not even as he kisses her forehead.   
_I need fresh air._

Suddenly it is clear to Goro, he can no longer stay here. The fragile bubble in which they both have been ignoring reality has been shattered, perhaps irrevocably, and all he can do is to let her linger in it for a while longer.

 _We have always known._ It was never going to last. 

_She’s barely old enough to drink and you’re takin’ advantage of her._

No.

Goro cannot sneak out like a thief, yet he cannot find a single piece of paper that is not full of advertisements, and if he texts her… then maybe she will wake.   
So he searches through the flyers and advertisements until he finds a piece of lacquered cardboard that is more red than not, and folds an _ume_ blossom for Vee. He puts the clip back into her gun, returns it to its customary place, then settles the paper flower atop of it, and tucks in the sleeping thief. 

Retrieving his gun and his clothes, Goro dresses as quietly as he can, never quite turning away from her. Blonde hair spills over the white pillow like sunlight; her lashes are darker, casting no shadow. Vee’s face is almost as pale as it was the first time he saw her. It is easy to forget that she is dying when she is awake, so brightly is she burning.

_Thank you for this gift, Vee. It will warm me for the rest of my life._

The door to her apartment hisses shut behind Goro like a katana, severing whatever ties bound them. He walks towards the lift, steps into the metal cage. The television has been shot in the time he’s spent with Vee, saving him the need to do so.

Nonetheless, the smoldering rage he had been careful not to touch fans into a bonfire.

_Don’t shoot your input._

Goro walks away from Vee, into the streets towards his van, struggling to regain his calm, waiting for someone _else_ to shoot. One of the few good things about Night City is that he will not have to wait long.


	7. Rise and Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in months, V wakes up happy - despite the fact that she's alone. 
> 
> Even the knowledge that she has to face Viktor can't fully ruin her day - although it's hard, for both of them, 'cause they both have to dance 'round the cyberpsycho in the room...

For once, V does not wake up tense and in pain. Instead, she wakes up relaxed and in pain, which is a big step in the right direction. Her lips curl into a smile when her sleepy brain dredges up the reason why.

_Goro…_

She reaches out and doesn’t find him, and that warm and fuzzy feeling’s gone like a handful of eddies on a sidewalk. _‘Course not._ She curls up on her side and buries her face in the pillow that still smells like him, trying to wrestle a few more minutes of peace and calm. 

Doesn’t work. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Johnny urges. “Raise ’n shine, V! Today’s a big day - today we’re gonna go talk to the Voodoo Boys!”

“Shiiiit…” she groans, because Pacifica can ruin even good things, and gettin’ outta bed was never one of those. “Fuck off, Johnny!” “C’mon! Can’t sleep the day away!” The dead terrorist sounds annoyingly cheerful. Knowing fully well that she can’t shoot him, V gropes around for the little gun and finds something made of paper that has no business in her bed. Since there’s only one way it coulda gotten there, she pries her eyes open and looks at it. It’s a little paper flower, five petals opening like a hand, the paper a bright lacquered red. _Chromanticore Cherry! Subtle…_ She fights a goofy smile and tucks the little blossom against her heart.

Johnny’s suspiciously silent, and another look around shows that he’s really fucked off, no doubt to the back of her head to pound it into pulp. Carefully, V rolls out of bed, gun and paper flower in her hands, and manages to get up without feeling nauseous. _Today’s a good day…_

Skipping her morning shower, she hums to herself while brushing her teeth and is annoyed when she notices it’s Samurai. V switches to Us Cracks instead, just for contrast. _Gotta see Vik ‘bout that implant,_ she puts the most important task of the day on top of her to-do list.

The thought of the ripperdoc actually makes her go for a quick wash. She’d much rather not, but right now it’s a tradeoff between something she doesn’t want and something she _really_ doesn’t want, so her consideration for Viktor wins out. Reluctantly, V scrubs herself clean enough that the poor guy won’t think she’s there for a doll implant, then makes herself an instant coffee - _major league cookin’, right there -_ and shrugs on clean threads.

Weather outside’s decent for once, unlike yesterday, so at least she can go by bike without wet panties for a change. _Unless…_ she grins. V leaves the cup next to the microwave, puts on her jacket, tucks the small gun away and hangs the big’un across her torso. Then she takes a last look at her apartment, the red paper flower sitting directly under the window next to her bed, first thing to catch anyone’s eye with that bright red, and heads for Vik’s clinic.

The world’s lookin’ different, knowing that Goro likes her _back_. V catches herself humming again, this time a counterpoint to her bike’s roaring engine. _Least it’s not Samurai again._ There’s no running commentary from Johnny. He’s occasionally popped up in cars, but never on her ride. _Bet he can’t stand that Baby’s got more horsepower than he’ll ever have._

*

It’s not even three months that V’s been somebody else entirely. ‘Fore Johnny, she was a different person. 

_Amazing, how he just needed to show up in my fucking head to do that. Used to be someone who wasn’t fucked up and broken. Someone who had friends. Like Vik. Like Misty._

_Like Jackie._

They’re gonna lose her too, so best cut loose now while there’s still time. ‘S gonna hurt less that way.

_Him, at least._

Walking into Viktor’s clinic feels at the same time like walking into the past and pissing on her own grave.

*

Viktor’s watching a boxing match, one overchromed gonk huffing and puffing at another. “Hey kid, what brings ya here?” he asks, the creases on his face growing deeper for a moment as he smiles. 

“Thought, maybe I oughta get my Kerenzikov looked at,” she stalls. “Wasn’t sure if it triggered last night… think you can take a look?”

The ripperdoc rolls his head slightly, always ready to go and patch her up. “Sure thing,” he smiles. “Make yourself comfortable, be right with ya.” He gets up and walks to the sink, washing his hands as cautiously as if he’d not be putin’ on gloves.

V throws herself on the operating table, shoving her hand through the manacle like it’s her sofa. _Spent so much time in here… gettin’ my chrome calibrated. Shit…_ Vik turns around and looks at her, and despite the neon light in the basement and his shades, there’s something in his eyes that’d break her heart if it wasn’t already in a thousand pieces all over the fucking place. “Lookin’ tired,” she says, just to break the silence.

It’s a relief to hear the familiar chuckle, to see that almost-scoff. “And what’re you, the sleep police?” He doesn’t meet her eyes while checking her vitals, which suits her just fine. 

“NCSD,” she nods. “Gotta see those papers.”

Viktor flashes her the ghost of a smile, keeping his attention on the screen. “How’s the cough been?”

“Gettin’ worse,” V mutters, trying to sound casual. “Don’t s’ppose you can switch out the entire sponge?” _If he says no…_

“Thought so,” comes the gruff reply; he’s keeping an eye on the screen, zooming in on her lungs. “Can do, but it’s not a permanent solution. The bionic ones, they’re part ‘ganic. That bit’ll still…” _Vik’s never put on his doctor face ‘round me._ “... degrade, over time. But it’ll be better for a while.”

She can’t help but laugh. _Degrades. Everythin’s going down… the fuckin’ black dog by my side._ “Heh, I’ll take it.”

The ripperdoc doesn’t even smile. “Anythin’ else while you’re here? ‘Fore I start carvin’?” 

_Yeah, I need that thing I told you I’d not need._ “Mh… Kerenzikov?” V notices her fingers fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket and she makes herself stop.

 _Now_ Viktor chuckles, a quiet rumbling noise. For a moment, everything’s _normal_ , and she desperately clings to that. “Jeez, kid, I got _that_ much. M’old, not _senile_.”

V looks away before the moment can shatter like her heart. “Sorry…” she mutters. _Now or never._ “And… that hormone thing? The one that makes sure I don’t catch ‘nother tapeworm?” _The one I told you I’d not need?_

The ripperdoc’s eyebrows abandon the cover of his shades. “Yeah…” he says mechanically. “Yeah, ‘course. Lemme find where I stashed ‘em.” With that, he turns around and disappears in the back. 

_Thank you, Vik. Thank you so much._ For a moment, V covers her face, the burning eyes. _Shoulda slept more._ Then she remembers why she hasn’t and the smile finds its way back to her lips; it lets her shove everything else back under the rug again. _Should not._ Vik’s shoes on the concrete tell her he’s back, and she lowers her hands and smiles at him. “New lung’s gonna be preem. Even if it rots, ‘s gotta be better than the one I got.” It’s kinda funny, how back in Johnny’s day you’d’ve died of such things. And AIDS. And the plague n’stuff.

The ripperdoc’s relief is clear from the set of his shoulders. “Trust ya know the drill,” he says, turning around to mess with the chrome on the sterile steel tray. “Protects ya against ‘tapeworms’, nothin’ else, yada yada.” 

_Don’t think the samurai packs anythin’ else I need protection from._ The idea that he’d pick up STDs anywhere’s so absurd that she has to laugh. It ends up suspiciously close to a giggle, and she looks down to hide the fact that she’s grinning like a fool. “That’s… okay,” V drawls, just as Viktor turns around. “Where’d you even put it?” she rambles, just to distract from the fact that she’s flushing. _Get a grip, gonkbrain._

“Inner arm,” the doctor replies, looking her up and down. “You’re lookin’ well, all things considered,” he adds, corners of his lips twitching upwards in the hint of a smile.

For a lung transplant, V’s gotta strip, and there’s nothing Vik hasn’t seen before anyways. “Always the disclaimers,” she jokes and shrugs out of her jacket, drops it on the floor and lets shirt and bra follow. She knows there are no traces of the night before on _her_ , and the thought makes her flush again.

“M’a doctor, V, people don’t come and see me when they’re doin’ well,” he answers, and there’s something in his tone that blunts this blow, allowing her to deflect it with a laugh. 

“Don’t wanna be a bother…” she replies. “Gotta have a lot of lungs switched out over the next time though, so stop complainin’. Gonna make you rich.”

“Mmh.” Vik’s holding up the tranquilizer, not patting her shoulder like he usually does before he leans in to remedy that. “Ya ready? Lights out.”

* 

She’d dreamed… _no, that was no dream._ Is almost groping for her pillow when clarity of mind suddenly returns like someone flipped a switch: she’s not in her bed but on Vik’s operating table in his basement. Breath after deep breath, sweet oxygen keeps coming; it’s an effort not to moan with relief.

“All good, kid? Any pain?” Like every time she’s here, the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is Viktor. _No… not every time._ She can remember Goro leaning over her, touching her shoulder, and that gonk smile’s back on her face. V sits up to fish for her clothes, starts putting them back on. “Everythin’s preem. Can finally breathe again…” She does that once more before clipping her bra shut, smirking at the ripperdoc.

This time, Vik’s smile is real. “Good. Swapped the lungs, as m’sure you can tell, an’ I recalibrated your Kerenzikov for good measure, but lemme know if it acts up again.” He looks away for a second before meeting her eyes again. “Oh, an’ the implant is in, like you asked.” There’s a wry grin. “So, you, uh… You wanna tell me who the lucky guy is?”

“Mmm.” V’s surprised to find how much she wants to. “Know ‘im, actually.” _What if he disapproves?_ The sheer amount of anxiety she feels at the idea makes her angry. _You’re not my real dad!_ “Been sleepin’ with Goro.” She shrugs noncommittally. “Ain’t a long-term thing.” _Obviously._

Viktor coughs, pats his chest. “Fair enough, I guess. By the way, he’s… got one of those,” he chokes out. 

Not the reaction she’d hoped for. Not the reaction she’d dreaded, either. _The fuck it hurts?_ V crosses her arms, ready to slip off the table. “He’s a sweet guy,” she informs the ripperdoc.

“Hey, listen, m’happy for you.” Vik briefly touches her elbow. “‘Sides… if he ever does anythin’ stupid, I know his weak spots.” From her friend’s quick grin, he’s mostly joking.

“‘Saka, ‘Saka, and then some ‘Saka,” V jokes back while putting her feet off the operating table, the floor reassuringly solid under her feet. _Wish I was someone who’d be usin’ him. Like Johnny says Rogue is. Would sure be nice… for me. Better kind of heartbreak, that._ Shaking her head, she grins at Vik. “The gonk’s his own worst enemy. He fucks up, don’t bother goin’ after ‘im.” 

The ripperdoc grins as he crosses his arms. “Pff,” he scoffs, laughing. “Hope it doesn’t come to ‘at, but I’ll take my chances.” 

“If… heh.” V feels the smile drain from her face. “Just let ‘im walk, Vik. Night City’s eatin’ ‘im alive. Would… love it if one of us made it outta ‘ere alive, y’know?”

“Should know better by now, kid,” her friend sighs. “No one leaves Night City in one piece.”

Viktor looks so tired that V just has to hug him. They’re not usually on touching terms, and it only lasts a heartbeat, but afterwards his eyes behind the shades are no longer _that_ sad. “Take care of each other, all right?” he says. “And drop by sometime; I’ll make sure you’re not runnin’ him ragged.” A grin. “You kids have nothin’ to worry about, but he and I ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

 _Jesus Christ on a stick, Vik, you’ve got no idea._ V giggles. “ _Me_ , running _‘im_ ragged?” She quickly changes the topic. “Nah… gonk needs someone to look after him. On his own, he’d literally starve.” Bouncing off the surgery table, reinforced tendons absorbing the impact as specified, she adds: “Gives me somethin’ to do.”

Viktor’s still chuckling by the time she reaches the exit, and she doesn’t look back ‘cause she’s not sure what’s gonna happen when she does. Facing Misty… _no can do. Nope._

Trying to focus on the gonk butterflies rather than the sinking feeling in her stomach, V slips out through the back door like a thief.


	8. Sacrum Profanum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro searches, and finds, trouble in Night City, and loses his temper.
> 
> \- obviously, this chapter contains some violence -

The megabuilding Vee lives in sticks out against the skyline like a rotten tooth in a mouth full of fangs, all chrome and neon. Behind the steering wheel of his van, Goro tries to alleviate his anger. 

_Inhale.  
Acknowledge.  
Exhale.  
Let go._  


It does not work.

The radio annoys him, so he turns it off and drives the car through a stroboscope of flashing advertisements, across the madness that is the traffic of Night City - choosing green lights over red, like a leaf in a stream. 

_I, too, am adrift among these people._

The streets get even worse as he keeps drifting north, pockmarked by potholes. Goro drives past an industrial complex of some kind, another megabuilding. A big Arasaka logo flashes to his left, and he scoffs at himself as he turns away from it. There is a waterfront, and the streets keep leading him away from this again, but he steers his van back every time roads and traffic force him off-course.

Once there, he parks the car, takes another breath full of rage, and gets out. _It will not be fresh air. But perhaps it will clear my head._

Someone is screaming not far away, voice breaking and full of distress. “Help! Someone please help me! Anyone!”  
Goro is spoiling for a fight, as though he were a much younger man. He straightens his spine and walks towards the shouting, cutting the wind with his shoulders.

The man is kneeling in front of a shrine surrounded by candles, and at first Goro thinks that he is looking at a machine monk. This would not be out of place in Night City, but he is visibly distraught. “It itches… should it itch?” The monk rubs over his cyberarm, voice a high-pitched whine as if he was talking to himself. “Why do I feel anything? It… it is nothing but unfeeling metal!”

A quick scan of the vicinity reveals no lurking enemies. “You have been calling for help,” Goro flatly observes. “What is the matter?”

“My body… I have been defiled!” The man turns one eye and an ungainly eye patch towards him. He is not old, his skin disfigured with welts of his body fighting the implants. “A bhikkhu does not sully his body with cybermodification! It is against… the pratimoksha!” The way he gets up betrays that he is in pain; his sense of balance, of self, is out of center.

His optics do not translate this. It must be whatever Way the man follows. 

“And yet… they knew about this! For me there is no return…”

 _Does the depravity of this city know no bounds?_ “Somebody forced this upon you?” Goro queries for clarification. 

“Not just me - my brother, too.” A shiver runs through the monk’s body. “They drugged us… desecrated my body.”

The rage inside him reaches boiling temperature, and he feels his hands curl into fists. 

“And all the while, they mocked me… How can you do this to a fellow human being and still mock them?”

This question, innocent as it is, takes Goro down a road he cannot go. “Where is this brother of yours?” he asks instead.

“I was first,” the monk tells him. “Then they were trying to decide how… how to modify him.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, his right brutally mangled, the left an implant that hardly deserves the name at all. The gesture does not look rude, more as if he was cold. “You look like someone who can reason with these people. I beg you, please, help my brother!”

“They are beyond reason,” he replies. “But I will help your brother, if I can. Where is he?”

“They are keeping him in a shop just north of here,” the monk replies. He does not point there, rather rubs over his primitive cyber arm again.

“How many?” His voice is a growl, he can’t help it.

“I saw four, maybe five?” 

With a nod, Goro turns around and starts walking north in big strides. “Help us, please… but without any bloodshed - I beg you,” he hears the man say. 

Without bloodshed? Perhaps.

Without death? No.

*

There is only a single building to the north of him, after that there is only the waterfront. A number of shipping containers are stacked up, providing cover.

If he still had his implants, Goro could have jumped on top of them. _With her reinforced tendons, Vee could._  
Since he does not, he carefully makes his way around them. A single ganger is standing in front of the building: greasy leather jacket, filthy hair, the front half of his face where his eyes would be completely gorged out and replaced with shiny chrome and gleaming red lights.

Goro distracts him by throwing a pebble, then closes the distance and snaps the man’s neck. He quietly lowers the limp form to the ground, then looks at the exposed skin in disgust. The flesh is warped and atrophied, forming ridges around the bones.

 _Disgusting._

“Chooms, chooms, listen!” a rough voice calls. “What if instead of an arm… we chipped him with iron? Every time he’d have to take a piss, he’d…” The speaker laughs.

There is a container to his left. A trash can inside, with a stack of empty cans and ‘food’ wrappings. Cockroaches are skittering about, long as fingers. On quiet feet, Goro walks past it. 

“Ha! And then he’ll start a next-gen Buddhist fellowship of… get this! Full Metal Monks!” The man’s cackle grinds like rusty iron.

Walking around a corner, he looks into a warehouse full of cargo crates and containers. One of them bears a logo, “MLSTRM”. His optics do not translate this.  
A radio is blaring something that resembles music as ‘chow’ resembles food. Across the room, a row of spotlights sheds glaring white light into the room, and his optics adjust immediately. One ganger is standing in front of them, his attention focused at something to the right.

“You stole my fuckin’ joke!” The first speaker is to the right, the center of his minion’s attention, and Goro keeps himself very still to avoid drawing any attention. 

“Please!” the monk begs, he must be almost next to him right on the other side of the metal container wall. “Dharma has brought me peace. Do not deprive me of it…”

That is what pushes him over the edge. His rage erupts like a volcano; only decades of training let him hold on to it. Goro rides his anger right into the crystal clarity of the warrior’s Way. It takes him one more pebble to distract the ganger across the room, and he grabs him in a chokehold, breaks his neck, and lowers the body behind a crate. One of the wires at the back of his skull almost brushes his face.

There are just two more left. 

“Open your flap again and I’ll rip your tongue out!” the leader barks, and intimidated, the monk lowers his head and falls silent.

The remaining foes split up now, the leader - a tall creature in a heavy trench coat, features warped and twisted over implants - heading outside, perhaps to check on the guard. The second disappears into a corner of the shop. 

Swiftly, Goro follows the first one outside and dispatches him on the way before he can stumble upon the remains of his lookout. Then he returns to make the last one harmless as well.   
This one does not go limp immediately when his neck breaks, turns rigid instead. Perhaps the thick strand of cable at the back of his head is the reason why - it disappears in the collar of his shirt, possibly a secondary spine.   
Using the cables as a handhold, Goro slams the ganger’s head against the corner of the shelf, the metal implant that serves for a face malfunctioning in a shower of sparks. Finally, the cord comes loose, and he tears it out of his enemy’s limp body and drops him to the ground.

Everything has taken perhaps sixty seconds.

When he turns around, he sees the _oshō_ , orange-clad but still whole, hands folded behind his head, eyes wide. This one, too, shaves his head; the skin of his arm has already been prepared for implantation, synthskin flaps slovenly held in place with rough stitches, but no ‘chrome’ has been added yet.   
“You are safe now,” Goro informs the man.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” the stranger answers, “but my life is not worth the death of others.” Stiffly, he settles down onto a piece of electronics; he rudely crosses his arms, then looks away.

It is a stance that Goro finds himself adjusting more often than not in this city, and he mirrors the monk. “I have made a different decision,” he points out.

“But why?” The man appears distraught, or maybe he’s in pain. It is difficult to tell. “You always have a choice, including not to act at all. One good deed does not justify the suffering you have sewn.” 

_I have not come here to do good._ He nods his head respectfully. 

But then the monk pours oil on the fire that is Goro’s temper: “You have committed evil in its purest form,” the little man tells him. “I would prefer to lose the only body I have than to live with the thought that someone died on my account.”

“I can give you a swift and honourable death,” he growls, opening his coat to reveal the _tantō_ by his side, looking his opposite straight in the eyes. 

“Do it or leave me,” the monk calmly replies. “I must catch my breath before I go to my brother. It is him who needs saving now.”

Disgraced by his lack of self-control, Goro comforts himself with the thought that he has no face to lose while he walks back towards his van through the streets of Night City.

_Forsaken by the gods indeed, Oda._


	9. Side Jobs: Wakako's Favorite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After not even wanting to go out of bed at all, V procrastinates going to Pacifica by taking a job from Wakako Okada. Johnny's suspiciously silent, but that's a nice change, isn't it?

The bridge leading south towards Corpo Plaza’s blocked by a gonk stretch limo, and V, not willing to wait or awkwardly maneuver around, kicks Baby into gear and deltas towards Kabuki instead. _Streets in Corpo Plaza are nicer, but I’m less likely to be gunned down in Japantown..._  
She jerks her bike into a sharp curve to the right, crosses the water and follows the road, noticing just now that she’s right above where they’d met with Oda. 

_Some chooms you have, samurai…_

Oda’s gonna be a problem when Goro makes his try at Hanako. V’s got a sinking feeling in her stomach, ‘cause if the gonk’s as loyal as her input was to the guy who held _his_ leash…  
_Sure thing, V,_ scoffs the voice at the back of her head that sounds more like Johnny Asshole Silverhand with every passing day, _be jealous of Saburo fuckin’ Arasaka._  
The wind’s driving tears to her eyes, and she pulls the gas to go faster, but then cars are congealing ahead of her - V slows again, dancing through the traffic like a bullet in a ventilation shaft. Weaving left and right whenever things slow down too far for her tastes, she blasts through Japantown, and for a few precious heartbeats, she is free.

The phone snaps her out of it. 

“Wakako,” she greets the lady of Westbrook Hill. “Pleasure hearin’ from you.”

“V,” the fixer acknowledges her. “One of my netrunners is unresponsive, in spite of clear orders to remain in direct contact with me.” She pauses for less than a second. “Something must have happened. He would not dare go against me. Familiarize yourself with the brief and proceed swiftly.” There is another tiny break, and suddenly, the Tyger Claws matriarch - _what’d Goro_ say? _Oyabun? -_ is audible under the mask of the nice Japanese grandma: “I. Need. Him.” 

“Sure thing, Wako,” V replies, falling back on her nickname ‘cause she’s fuckin’ _scary_ like this. It’s sometimes hard to see why she’d sent Goro bowin’ and scrapin’, being all respectful-like… even more than usual. 

The connection drops, and as promised, there is a text with the detes. V scans them.

_For years, I worked to get jobs done comfortably, with a crew I hand-picked myself. I chose Chang Hoon Nam years ago, and he hasn’t let me down once. I don’t know what happened to him, but you must get him back. Check the basement in that Chinese place. He keeps his gear there, sometimes takes a side gig or two. Think he’s still alive – if he weren’t, he’s the type who’d come back as a ghost and apologize, just like in those tales from the old country that make me want to puke. He’s sentimental like that._

An image of the gonk is attached. There’s two kinds of netrunners, those who forget to eat and those who forget to stop, and he’s the second type. V walks into the restaurant.  
The place - Yagami Market - is trying very hard to look fancy, so she steps up to the counter and leans on it.  
The gal on the other side is as Chinese as V herself, making eye contact from under a baseball cap that’s probably supposed to be white. “Yeah?” she asks.

 _Well, here goes nothing._ “Got ‘ganic food?”  
The cook or whatever she is almost laughs at her, then reconsiders at the last moment and looks away. “No, sorry.”  
“Thought so,” she mutters and walks past the counter to the door in the back. It’s locked, and for a second she considers just opening it anyway, but this is Wakako’s turf, and she doesn’t wanna make her angry. WIth a shrug, V heads back outside and tries the back entrance this time.

Fancy ends with the facade, and the entire back alley smells like piss, as it’s supposed to. The back door yields to her gorilla arms, and the stairs to her right look bog standard Night City. There’s two trip mines wired up as if she was stupid enough to walk into them, and V slips through underneath, rolling her eyes. Door behind them’s not even locked, and she dodges through it into a room that looks and smells like old socks.

Doesn’t smell like fried netrunner though, and a quick scan of the silhouette straight ahead shows that Chang Hoon Nam’s still alive - no thanks to the strategic placement of his chair. V’s got a clear line of fire from where she’s standing, but since she’s here to save the gonk and not flatline him, she carefully steps closer, keeping an eye out for more trip mines. Place’s darker than Saburo Arasaka’s heart, and there are little glitches dancing through her field of vision when her optics reach their limits. Fortunately, it only takes a thought to turn off that feature. She’s left behind in pitch-darkness broken only by flickering lights in red and neon. _Place’s more cliché than Johnny._

“Look, V, it’s you in the near future!” Think of the devil - and he pops up right next to the man’s chair, silver arm reflecting the neon light of the monitors. “Every Netrunner ends up the same, brain-fried by some corpo ice.”  
“Didn’t know you were a netrunner,” she replies, then turns away from Johnny to take in the place. Running TV that he can’t even see, workstation, about a million monitors on the wall…

… all of which spell _HELP ME_ now.  
“Sure, choom, that’s what Wako pays me for,” V tells the limp silhouette. _Like talkin’ to a vegetable._ “What do I do?”

There’s no answer. _Would’ve been too easy, wouldn’t it._ Only place that looks halfway important is to the left, a heavy steel door blocking any and all access right next to a flickering light. Fortunately, there’s a metal grid in the window that’s nowhere near as robust, and V pulls it outta the frame.

But there’s nothing in the room. It’s quiet except for the humming of servers. 

She scans for life signs, tech, anything, but the only thing that registers is a grate in the floor. _UNPOWERED_ , her optics inform her.  
“You fuckin’ kidding me?”  
Of course, there’s no answer, so she lowers herself into the crawlspace. The place is full of mines and she has to crawl on her belly, face right next to a drain that lets off acidic steam.  
_I must be on the right way here if there are fuckin’ landmines. Gonk crawlin’ on his belly every time he needs to… whatever’s behind that?_ There’s another grate in the floor, and she tears it out of the frame to get up.  
She’s standing on the other side of that door now.  
“The _fuck?_ Are you kiddin’ me, asshole?”  
One of the many monitors flashes three times, and V walks over to find it unlocked. _Eh. Well._  
She skims the messages - there’s three, two of which are from Wakako, the third from some “Spectral Kid” about a Kang Tao container.

V glares at the comatose netrunner, then reads the mail again and cuts through all the technobabble. Every third word’s a slur, and she can empathize. If she gets this right…  
“So there’s a shard that’ll un-fry you? Great. Bet that was behind the door, yeah?” She stalks back into the room and scans over the shelves until she finds it, then shoves it up the gonk’s port.

Instantly, the lights come back on, and the flickering darkness goes away. The place looks even worse like this, any sense of drama evaporating.  
Surprisingly enough it’s relatively clean, there aren’t even any cockroaches. _Guess whatever is in that drain keeps them off._

“Mmmh…” Chang Hoan Nam mutters, “two seconds…”

“Take your time,” V says. “I’m sure Wakako won’t mind waitin’ some more.”

That wakes him up; he jerks upright and holds his head with a groan. “She always finds an excuse to drag me to her place for dinner,” he grouses.

“Terrible fate, got my sympathies.” She doesn’t ask what happens. Any explanation will have a lot of words that have no meaning if you’re no deckhead. “Now, you gonna get back in touch with her? ‘Cause I gotta delta.”

“Thank you for your help,” the netrunner calls after her. She’s already ducking under the trip mines back up the stairs, although they're blinking green now.  
_I don’t trust you._  
She is in a hurry to head back outside but doesn’t quite let down her guard - if you do that in Night city, you don’t live long; so when something comes at her from the corner of her eye, V is ready.

She finds herself eyes to glowing optics with an Arasaka assassin.

The man grapples her, and when she tries to break free, she ends up pinned to the wall.  
“Where is Takemura?” he hisses, voice warped beyond recognition.  
He isn’t going to kill her, then, not before he has what he wants.  
“Hell do I know?” she drawls. V lets herself go slack rather than struggling, and the cyberhead’s forced to try and keep her upright, which gives her a chance to activate her Sandevistan and twist out of his grip.

The result exceeds her wildest expectations: she’s lined up for a clear kick at his knee, and she takes it. The gonk might as well be trapped in syrup. She takes out his leg under him and sends him spinning down the stairs with a dropkick, putting the full force of reinforced tendons behind it.

Fortunately for him, the ‘Saka goon catches himself in time to make a pretty backflip and land on his feet. V has to give him that, he’s even lookin’ good at it, or as much as you can when you’re a two-bit borg in a onesie. 

Of course that’s where his luck ends, ‘cause there are still two mines on the stairs, and they’re no longer blinking green.

Before the explosion can fully unfold, V turns away from the assassin and dashes outside while the explosion is absorbed by surprisingly sturdy cement walls. His end’s a sad climax to the wasted life of an expendable asset: a wet noise and a wave of hot air’s the only thing that reaches her while she stops in the alleyway behind the building, hand on her weapon.   
For that reason, the second assassin doesn’t catch her by surprise, and she’s got the entire clip in his head before he’s even finished his sentence.

She drops the little gun and has both hands on the big one, but there’s no third assassin. Her heartbeat in her ears gets more and more noticeable, and she has to turn off the implant before she strokes out.

Still, there’s no third assassin.

V almost shoots her foot when her phone rings again. “I was informed of how you handled yourself. Good work,” Wakako tells her once she’s picked up. “I expected nothing less from you. I am closing the contract.”  
Before the fixer can hang up on her, V takes the initiative. “Um, Wako?” She bends down to pick up her little gun, loads it and tucks it back into place. 

“Yes?” The old lady sounds patient, like everyone’s favourite grandma, but she’s killed six husbands so far, and anyone stupid enough to forget that. 

“I just blew up two gonks on your turf,” she mentions. “‘Saka assassins. Thought you should know.”

“Thank you, V. That is very kind.” The little holo of Wakako Okada leans back and she _knows_ that the woman is crossing her legs to put her hands on her knees right now. “What did they want?”

“Been lookin’ for my friend… ‘member ‘im?” V grins wryly. “‘Course, I got no idea where he is.” _Other than not in my bed,_ the little voice in her head whispers, not sounding like Johnny at all _._

“The gentleman,” Wako purrs. “Of course. Needless to say, _I_ have no idea where he is either.” They share a little smile over the holo. “Now, is that all?”

“Um…” V repeats, then decides to ask before she can reconsider. “Paper flowers meanin’ anything special, d’you know?” _You’re exposed without cover!_ “‘Cause my friend mentioned somethin’ and I’ve no idea what to make of it,” she adds by way of explanation.

The fixer chuckles as if there was a joke V wasn’t getting. “A great deal,” she replies. “Origami is full of significance - from the colour of the paper to the flower. It can mean everything, from a death threat to a blessing.”

“Jesus…” she mutters. “What happened to texting?” Then she remembers who she’s on the phone with. “Thanks, Wako.”

“I will send you details. Free of charge.” Audibly amused, the fixer ends the call.


	10. Sugar Magnolia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny never expected gratitude when V finds out that he sent her corpo dog away. But her actual reaction blows the scale.

Johnny’s bored. 

V’s dragged him to Cherry Blossom Market to grab chow, then climbed across the structure’s glass roof - metaphor in that, surely - to the walkway besides, and started digging through the fucking _novel_ Wakako’s sent her. Knowledge about origami folding starts pilin’ up in their head, and more of it than Johnny’s ever wanted to have. _What happened to texting indeed._

“Sounds like red means he _likes_ me?” V’s all _giddy_ , heart rate _way_ up after the Sandevistan shenanigans earlier, and he needs to pull that tooth asap. “What, you think he’s _proposin’_ or something?” Johnny lights himself a cigarette and scoffs. 

It’s almost painful to see her sink into herself. “Yeah…” she mutters. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that.” Then she perks up a little. “Guess it just means he likes me, though?”

“‘Less it’s cherry, then it means he’s breakin’ up,” Johnny reminds her, pointing at the stylized flower on the market’s neon sign. _Close enough,_ he thinks.  
_Don’t have the best track record with relationships,_ he thinks to himself, _but at least I never fell for anyone who’d drop me like a hot potato to suck off the next ‘Saka exec who snaps his fingers._

Johnny’s never felt the kind of emotional turmoil V’s in right now in his entire life. Part of her’s elated on a high of natural dorph. Another part’s in love, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed puppy love that’s Kerry enough to make him nauseated.  
The biggest part is terrified.  
That’s the smart part.

All in all, she’s an emotional mess he’s not equipped to untangle, and frankly, he doesn’t care. _Am I your therapist or what?_ “Was happy enough to fuck off, remember?” he adds.

But at his words, the terror in her flares up to the point where it triggers _his_ flight reflex, and Johnny Silverhand never had one of those.

V turns around to look at him, and there’s something in her face that he’s never seen there before. “No,” she tells him, voice eerily calm. “No, I don’t remember.” She bounces up with the help of her kangaroo feet, stands to look him straight in the eye.   
If not for the fact that they share a nervous system and the pulse in her throat, he’d think her as cool as Rogue.  
“Johnny…” she asks, voice calmer than the eye of a hurricane, “what did you do?”

“Introduce myself,” he drawls. “He was just too happy to fuck off after.”

Even sharing V’s brain, he has no idea what just happened other than _nothin’ good_. She looks him straight in the eye, optics hard as sapphires - then gets out Yorinobu’s barbie gun, clicks the safety off and puts the muzzle in her mouth like she’s giving head to the reaper.   
_Shit._  
For a few heartbeats, Johnny can only stare.   
V’s trig finger tenses; she’s staring him down like he’d fucked her little sister instead of being on the receiving end.  
_Fuck. Never play poker ‘gainst her._ “Jesus Christ, V!” he surrenders. “I fuckin’ woke up next to him, what’d you expect me to say?” _Yeah, that’s good! Make her talk, she can’t answer with her mouth full._

She lowers the weapon - only to point it at _him_ instead, and sweet Mary, she’s _pissed_. He’s seen that look on Rogue’s face when someone mentions Smasher. That ‘Saka tech who zeroed him, she had it, too.

Not V. She’s not the type.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

“Say ‘Mr. Takemura, kindly pass me the omega blockers.’” 

Her tone brooks no discussion, none at all, and Johnny folds like a lawn chair. “Aye, m’am.” He salutes as sarcastically as he can.

“Honestly,” V tells him hoarsely, “you’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met, and that includes Saburo.” She covers her hand with her mouth, and she must’ve popped an omega blocker, because the world fades around him in a weird mix of guilt and heartbreak.

 _Alt_ , Johnny thinks, and then he’s out.


	11. That Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny's right, and V is having a pity party over that.

Finally alone in her head again, V takes deep breaths to calm herself and puts the little gun away. The world’s blurry with tears, and she is so angry that it feels like Sandevistan overuse.  
_Or perhaps that_ is _Sandevistan overuse. Don’t wanna stroke out…_  
She trusts the local ripperdoc as far as she can throw a tank, but by the time she’s back in Watson and within reach of Viktor, her heart rate’s back to normal.  
_Guess I’m not goin’ to Pacifica today._ V makes her way back to the apartment, sheds her clothes and crawls back into bed, the little paper blossom tucked against her heart.

She doesn’t know cherry (everything ends) from plum (perseverance, ward against evil). Both are ‘ganic fruits, but other than that? She has a vague idea that blossoms are tree sex - hence the jokes about bees and flowers - but other than that, she’s got no clue. Wakako’s list doesn’t have pictures.

But ever the gentleman, Goro has spelled it out for her.

Chromanticore Cherry.

 _Told ‘im I wanted nothing permanent,_ V reminds herself. _Got no right to feel bad now._

And that’s so much like the samurai. To make her a paper flower, because _of fuckin’ course_ he folds paper flowers in his spare time, one that sends a message: _I remember what you told me, be reassured that I know, that it’s fine._ And how _typical_ , to put it between the lines and then highlight the space with Chromanticore neon.

Worst thing about this? Johnny was right.

 _Guess he knows a thing or two about heartbreak_. Wiping the tears from her face, V buries her head in the pillow _that still smells like him_ and hates him for it, hates her life, and herself most of all.


	12. Weighing a tripod kettle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro would never disrespect Vee's wish. Yet, if he finds a reason to text her...?

After his temper has finally cooled, Goro returns to his hideout in the derelict apartment building. Taking off the coat reminds him yet again how vulnerable he is in this city, without his dermal plating, but then he sees a white-blonde hair clinging to the inside of his collar.

Very carefully, Goro picks it up, wraps it around his finger and twists it into a circlet. Vee’s hair is a lot finer than his, and he carefully puts the tiny ring into the topmost locker of his nightstand. 

_Should I call her?_

She did not ask him for anything more than just to make her stop thinking for one night.   
That much, at least, he has accomplished.

Her image floats in Goro’s eyes while he sits down on the bed. She is everything he is not, clinging to life so fiercely, tooth and claw.   
Like the warriors of old, his own grip has always been a light one. He is ready to die - less so now, true, but he is at peace with his transience.

Not so Vee.

He remembers facing the _bakeneko_ in her body, seeing the terrorist’s sneer on her features.   
He remembers turning off his gun.

 _Silverhand._

Goro has snuck away like a thief, leaving her to wake up alone like a comfort woman.   
This has shamed her.   
Yet apologizing - addressing it at all - will only add to this.

It is a dilemma that she would not be in if not for his cowardice, for his own failure to look the enemy in the eye.

 _I have failed you, too._ No, calling her is out of the question. Vee was clear about what she wants - the least he owes her is to respect it.

But Goro has no face to lose. He can do both.   
“GOOD YAKITORI NIGHT CITY,” he texts her, and before he can reconsider: “TEMPURA NIGHT CITY CHEAP”.   
Never before has he resorted to duplicity of this kind. _There is nothing more fearful than a fool._ “Is there anything to eat in this wasteland?” he finishes.

Her reply arrives within two heartbeats.

“tired of protein bars, samurai? ;)” 

_Samurai.  
_Goro has no claim to that title. Yet the thief… She does not see his lost honour, calls him _samurai_ rather than _ronin_ , never shames him like Oda has rightfully done.   
_Vee, your kindness is a flame in my heart._

He reads the text again, can all but hear it in her voice, see that tiny smile on her lips - without malice. 

“There is no bad food when one is truly hungry,” he writes back with a thought. “Clearly, I am not.”

Three dots on his HUD indicate that Vee has seen his message, and Goro waits, suspended from the heart like a young boy.   
However, she does not reply.   
_There is my answer, then._

But just as he’s about to get up once more, get back out into the streets of Night City to prepare for another jump from the Kiyumizo stage, there is another text.   
“ran into two of your friends in japantown earlier. they been lookin for u.” And in the time it takes his heart to skip a beat, one more: “don’t think we’re gonna hear from them again though :))”

 _We._ It is not lost on him.

“If my ‘friends’ have been rude, then perhaps I owe you an apology,” he replies.


	13. Shut Up and Kiss Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V has a date!

Goro’s attempts at using a search engine dry her tears like a storm in the Badlands, and make her smile while nuzzling her nose into the pillow that still smells like him. _He’s hungry, got nowhere to go, and he asks me?_ Her heart turns into a puddle at that and she smiles despite herself, hugging the little paper blossom against her heart once again. _Guess this is the friendzone, then. Isn’t so bad… Gonna miss the sex, though._

His reply actually makes her giggle, and she wipes the last few tears from her face. ‘There is no bad food when one is truly hungry. Clearly, I am not.’ It is so deadpan, so _him_ , that she can all but see the self-deprecating little twitch of his lips. V types up and then deletes a reply several times, finally texts something else so it doesn’t get awkward; he needs to know about the assassins anyway.

When he answers, she reads it thrice to be sure. On the second time, her heart skips a beat, and on the third, the butterfly barrage starts firing in her stomach.  
  
“If my ‘friends’ have been rude, then perhaps I owe you an apology.”

 _The last time you said that…_ “same kinda apology as with the sofa? :)” she replies. _Cause I rather liked that…_ The silence that follows her words stretches for a few moments; an anxious eternity with her heart in her throat.

“I would not offer what is not welcome,” comes the response at last, and even through text she can tell he’s uncomfortable. He’ll hold his shoulders like _this_ right now, hands loosely to his sides and head lowered as if expecting a well-deserved blow.

She calls him.  
He picks up at once.  
“V,” he says, and his voice is even rougher than usual, sending a shiver all the way from her implant through her spine and between her legs. 

“Goro,” she answers, then clears her throat. “I… notice that you’re not here. To... make amends.”

There is a moment of silence, and then the tiniest laugh that zeroes her knees even though she’s not using them, curled up on the bed as she is. “Let me at least buy you dinner first.”

 _Right… you were hungry… but you’re broke._ “Meet me in Tom’s Diner.”  
“I… do not think I will be welcome there,” he reminds her gently.  
_But you can afford it, and I want pancakes._ “I’m gonna fix that,” she tells him. “Meet you there.”  
Goro has that tiny smile on his lips, it makes her want to kiss him even more than she normally does. He just dips his head and disconnects.

V’s out of the bed like greased lightning, packs a box of omega blockers just in case and jumps into her threads. Despite her sorry state from yesterday, her guns’re locked and loaded, and she’s on her bike not five minutes later.

She calls Tom as soon as she’s out of the garage. _He_ does not pick up instantly, but that’s probably ‘cause he’s talking to someone else already.

“Tom’s Diner, Tom speaking.” The cook sounds as if he’d rather be anywhere else than on the phone.

“Tom, hey, it’s V,” she needlessly points out because her call icon would’ve said as much. 

“V who?”

Given the notoriety she’s gained after Konpeki Plaza, it’s almost a relief that Tom doesn’t know the name. He should know her face, though. “Um, Arch Nazaré… motorbike, yellow. Blonde hair. Me, that is, not the bike.” When there’s still silence, she adds: “Pancakes?”

“Oh, hey V.” Tom sounds all friendly now, having identified her as a returning customer. “You never called before.”

“Yeah, ‘bout that.” She takes a deep breath. “‘Member my friend? The one who made the scene last time. Just wanted to make sure there’s no problem if I bring ‘im again. Gonk’s missed out on your pancakes.”

The man on the other end of the line exhales audibly. “You keep him in check,” he warns. 

“Preem, thanks Tom, don’t worry!” More relieved than she’d care to admit, V kicks Baby down a gear and accelerates.

*

She beats him to it, but only barely: she’s just popped open her NiCola when Goro enters. His cat optics catch the light as he looks around, and they’re absolutely lingering on her. V can’t quite keep the goofy smile off her face, so she folds her hands and studie the surface of the table. It looks like a street in Pacifica, she thinks, then looks back up just in time to see her input bowing to Tom behind the counter as if he was some ‘Saka exec, too. 

“Tea again?” the cook gruffly asks, "anything else?"  
“Yes. Pancakes. Thank you very much.” Goro nods his head and walks towards the booth V’s sitting in, smiling at her while settling on the opposite bench. For a brief moment she’s disappointed, then his legs under the table press against hers and she looks at her NiCola again, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks and between her thighs. _Fuck me, why’s he so hot?_

“It is good to see you, V.” His voice is almost too quiet to hear, so she leans back and gives him the best lazy smile that she can muster. _We’re playin’ it cool?_ She’d feel insecure about this, if not for the smile in Goro’s eyes that warms her entire body. He shifts his weight, his knee resting against the synthskin of her legs rather than the chrome of her shins.

V almost moans. Instead, she clears her throat and sips NiCola. “Hey, Goro. ‘S good to see you too.”


	14. Shotgun Rider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny would rather be anywhere else, really.

Again, V’s brain is a front row seat to a show he never booked. She’s trying hard not to look like she has the worst crush since the invention of clichés, and Takemura’s only slightly better at covering it up.

 _Little corpo bitch,_ Johnny thinks, but his heart isn’t in it. She hasn’t seen ‘Saka’s true colours yet, but that’s gonna come: no way this little flick can end in any way but tragedy. If the young people these days would pick up a book now and then, she’d know.  
_Startin’ to sound like my own grandfather._  
He manifests behind her, just to pace a little, pent-up energy having nowhere to go. 

The corpo hitman doesn’t see him. He prefers it that way.

A waitress puts a stack of pancakes down between the two of them, and V rolls up the topmost like it’s an ammo drum, stuffing it in her face.   
Her input takes his time, actually using one of the extra plates. “This is not bad,” he says, and from V’s reaction he might as well have proposed to her.

 _Jesus H. Christ, V._ Johnny shakes his head while circling around the two of them. To be fair, Takemura looks almost like he always does, perhaps more relaxed. _Not that that’s any difficult._ But V... 

Easy to see why everyone likes her, way she smiles. It’s possible to stay pissed, but only by reminding himself that that guy she’s lookin’ at is Saburo fuckin’ Arasaka’s bodyguard, more blood on his hands than the Grim Reaper.

Johnny waves to catch her attention, then crosses his arms in front of his chest and glares at her. “You’re violatin’ the Geneva Convention here. Pop that damn pill!”

He really doesn’t want to be around for what happens later. Thankfully, they’re of one mind — at least about this one thing.


	15. Cut Straight To The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the samurai can do anything stupid, V takes the initiative. But then she puts both feet in her mouth, right up to the knees, at least.

V finishes her NiCola and licks her lips, tongue catching the last traces of powdered sugar. For a brief moment, Goro’s cat eyes are focussed there, before he meets her gaze and gives her a tiny smile tinged with irony.   
“Need to talk,” she tells him, and is relieved to see him nod.

The timbre of his voice startles the butterflies, “But not here.” 

Mouth suddenly dry, V nods and untangles her legs from his to get up. She’s conscious of the weight of his optics on her back as she turns to wave good-bye to Tom.

Goro falls in next to her and they walk outside, past stinking trash bags to where his van is parked next to Baby, like a battered baseball bat next to a brand new butterfly knife. “My place or yours?” she jokes, stopping briefly so he can scan the environment for danger.

It’s a tug on her heartstrings to see him hesitate. “‘My place’ will not do,” he replies, “And yours…” He breaks eye contact. “It is dangerous. Already, assassins have come for you because of me.”

“And I took ‘em out,” V drawls, but from the stubborn set of Goro’s shoulders it’s clear that he won’t budge on this. Before he can settle on any unsatisfying solution — split up for safety, keep in touch via phone, never see each other again _because this isn’t gonna last anyway V, deal with it_ — she takes the initiative: “Back of your van or No-Tell Motel, pick one.”

Her input’s reflective optics rest on the van for a moment before returning to her face. “This… motel,” he begins, then hesitates.

V can’t hide her smile. _Gotcha._ “C’mon, it’s not far,” she prompts him. “Really just down the street…”

The samurai hesitates again; then he nods, walks around his van and opens the back of it. It’s a stash, and he reaches inside to pick out _his_ big gun. It’s a full auto, and of course it sports a ‘Saka brand. 

“This is Watson, not Pacifica,” she teases and falls in next to him, walking across the street towards No-Tell Motel. 

“When entering a village, obey the village,” comes the cryptic reply, and only his nod to the shotgun slung across her back puts that into context.

V laughs and points north. “It’s just two more blocks.” Thinking of No-Tell Motel tears open the abyss in the pit of her stomach, but Goro’s presence lets her cope: _Just butterfly gonks, bitch._

Now that he has a clear direction in mind, the samurai takes the lead again, carrying himself in a way that makes a chromed-up scav jump out of his way. He immediately takes the high ground, keeping inside the arcades to be out of sight from the street.

Next to a holobites machine, some guy’s selling threads. None of the stuff looks armoured, so V looks right past him and his goods, but then she does a double-take when a number of dark hoodies catch her gaze.

“Wait a sec.”  
Obligingly, her companion stops, turning away from the peddler to keep his cat eyes on the pedestrians, wary of hidden ‘Saka assassins and little old ladies with pepper spray.   
V smiles and picks some threads from the pile. Black, has a hood, big enough to fit Goro, no bullet holes, writing’s red and not white. _Check._ She beams the gonk his eddies and smiles while turning back north. “Ready.”

The crossroads in front of the Masala’s is clogged as usual, some asshole in a pink stretch limo can’t drive for shit. To V, it’s just Night City traffic, but the samurai’s eyes are darting from car to car as if he was just waiting for an ambush to happen, only relaxing once they’re safely away. 

The sidewalk’s barely wide enough for two, and there’s an awkward moment while both she and Goro try to walk between the other and the traffic. V loses.  
“Got this for you,” she remarks casually, nodding at the black hoodie she’s carrying. “Figured you’d like to cover up those ‘Saka brands.” Rather than reaching out to touch her input’s endoskeleton, she taps a finger against her own throat. 

“It is a good disguise,” Goro tells her, turning his vigilance away from the street to smile at her for a brief moment. There’s so much warmth in his optics that they choke her throat shut, and she looks away, down at the threads over her arm. The red letters stop dancing long enough for her to decipher them.   
“DIE CORPO PIG,” they spell.


	16. Inward Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something about No-Tell Motel frightens Vee, and Goro will do what he can to let her save face.

Vee’s reaction answers the question of what message she had been trying to convey: none. Her face turns pale with her knuckles around the strap of her shotgun, and her gaze drops.

On impulse, Goro reaches out with both hands, one touching her arm, the other taking the garment from her.  
She meets his gaze again, visibly surprised.  
“It will be the _jin hao_ of my revenge against Yorinobu,” he lets her know.  
Her eyes gloss over, but before he can shame her by witnessing her tears, she looks away once more. For his part, Goro turns away and walks beside her in silence towards their destination.

They need to talk, that much is true, and if she says that they are headed to a safe place for this… Earlier he had thought that she had other things in mind than talking, but right now she looks fragile, young. Rather than doing something that would shame them both, Goro busies himself by folding her gift away.  
_Even a flower of chrome is a flower._

“There is your motel.” The neon sign is right ahead, and Vee stops - _freezes?_ \- as they face the steel grid that can lock down the building. Advertisements and signposts illuminate the dim interior; a comfort woman is leaning against the opposite wall, obviously unarmed.   
After a demonstrative glance over his shoulder - no one is assaulting them from behind - Goro steps into the atrium, his optics adjusting for the contrast, highlighting movement of another person in the… lobby?  
“It is safe, Vee.”

She steps over the threshold, wary, as if she did not trust his word; yet rather than anger, he feels nothing but concern. Her optics glow blue as she scans the place, then straightens her shoulders and walks up the stairs, first one storey, and then another.  
He falls in behind her, covering her back. After decades of training, it takes no conscious thought, but there’s a moment of vertigo when she is taller than Saburo-sama.  
The merc stops in front of a wall terminal and jacks in, her optics flickering red, then she unplugs and smiles at him, looking almost like her usual self. “Got us a room,” she tells him with that tiny smirk of hers.  
But her eyes are still brittle, and her voice hoarse. Something is not right and Goro does not know what, or how to help her.  
So he just nods. “Good.” When she doesn’t move, he smiles at her. “Come.”

Again, Vee freezes when they’re about to step into the corridor. Goro looks around once and, when he can’t see anyone, takes her hand, the synthskin of her fingers cold and clammy on his. Slowly, they continue on their way.

“Once,” he begins, “there lived a hero by the name of Momotarō.”  
Vee looks at him, surprised, but her eyes aren’t quite as wide anymore, and Goro smiles at her again.  
“The land in that time was plagued by a band of _oni,_ and with nothing but a pack full of _kibi dango,_ he set out to defeat them.”  
There’s the hint of a smile on his audience’s lips now as they walk down the corridor. “How does he?” she asks as they stop in front of a door at the far end of the hallway.  
It makes him chuckle, how she has no patience for the story and only cares for results. It is very typical. “With the help of three mercenaries, a dog, a monkey and a pheasant. He paid them with his food, and they defeated the _oni_ and took their chieftain captive.”  
“And what happens after?” she asks, voice small while she opens the door with a code.  
“They return home as friends and with the _oni’s_ treasure,” Goro answers, stepping into a room that looks cleaner than the rest of the motel. A giant bed is to the left, another exercise in Night City depravity in plush and red velvet. Sunlight and neon glare are falling through the cracks in the blinds - as unlike a bamboo forest as something can be.  
He checks the tiny bathroom, opens the shower, and scans everything before nodding to Vee. “It is safe.”

She takes a deep breath before stepping over the threshold, and the door closes behind her. Now that they are alone, he walks towards her, holding out his hands. _Whatever you need, I am here._

Vee is in his arms a heartbeat later, burying her face against his neck, and if she is crying, the endoskeleton will not let him feel it. Goro strokes her hair and waits, giving her the silence she needs to gather herself.

For a Japanese woman, such a lack of self-control would be shameful. For her, a beautiful young merc in Night City, it must be worse.

After long minutes, Vee gathers herself enough to straighten herself, although she does not step away. “Jackie died here,” she whispers. “Outside, in the car. In the back.”

 _Jackie Welles, called Jaquito by his friends._ There is really nothing he can say, so Goro caresses the back of her hand with his thumb and keeps his attention fixed on her collarbones while waiting for her to go on.

“Bled to death,” she adds, clinging to his hands like they’re a lifeline. “Last thing he did…” Taking a shivering breath, she starts her sentence once more: “Last thing he did was to pull out that fuckin’ biochip and tell me to hold on to it…” 

He frees one hand and reaches for her face, even at the risk of noticing her tears. His thumb finds wet streaks across her cheek, and he smoothes them away. Vee leans into his palm and closes her eyes, then gestures at a spot on the ground in front of the bathroom door.

“An’ then I was shot, right there,” she croaks. “By Dex— Dexter.”

 _Viktor-san removed a bullet from her brain._  
It must be the same that is part of the necklace on her sink. “I have killed him,” Goro tries to reassure her, and is not surprised that his voice is a growl.  
“Know,” she manages. “I saw.” Her smile is so brave that it could break his heart.

“I never apologized for hitting you,” he reminds her. _And perhaps I should not?_ The thought amuses him. 

Vee’s laugh is a little shaky, but it’s real. “You gonna make up for that, too?” she asks, letting go of his hand to reach for his belt.

It is the most natural thing for his hand to rest below her jacket on the small of her back, and it feels equally natural for her to press against him. “If you wish,” he humbly suggests.

“Please,” is her only reply. 


	17. Hold Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro's apology is nothing like the last, but it's something V didn't know she needed until she got it.
> 
> _Tune:[Red - Hold me now](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcrAD35_P70)_

He’s usually too gentle, but right now his soft touches are balm on her battered soul. Goro shrugs off his coat and iron, letting both drop on the floor. V throws her little gun on the bed and follows his example, only to be stopped when she tries to bend down and take off her shoes.

At his direction, she finds herself sitting on the bedside, and the proud samurai kneels to take off her boots and socks, placing them next to the bed in rank and file. His reflective optics hold hers the entire time, and suddenly she feels self-conscious and awkward - reaches out for him and finds him lowering his head, breaking eye contact.   
V’s fingers sink into his hair, but his bun holds until she uses the second hand to help.

And then his hair comes down, gunmetal dissolving into strands of shadow and silver, almost halfway down his back. He’s smiling now, and she leans forward to kiss him, but his palm on her sternum stops her — and then he meets her halfway. He cups her face once more, and V leans into his caress. _You’re gonna make me cry,_ she thinks. _Again._

But he does not, merely gets up - smoothly, for someone with that much grey hair and next to no chrome - and takes his shoes off, then sits on the bed with her. His fingers are gentle as they begin to untangle her hair, acting for all the world as if he just happened to sit on the same bed as her and was bored. Looking right past her, the hint of a smile on his lips, he’s undoing the effects of Baby’s airstream, and she settles against him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

The samurai must’ve been in a fight earlier, smells like adrenaline hangover and sweat, but doesn’t yet need a shower. His hair carries a hint of cigarette smoke - someone else’s, no doubt - and under all that there’s _him_ , Wako’s tea, something exotic and increasingly familiar. V nuzzles her nose against his ear, between hairline and endoskeleton, and breathes in. He sets one foot on the bed in a display of flexibility that’s beyond anything _she_ can do without seeing Viktor first, and she rests her weight against his knee.

Once all the tangles are decommished to satisfaction, Goro’s hand wanders to her back, rubbing it in a repetitive motion so soothing she almost dozes off, not ten feet from the spot on the floor she was flatlined. “Stop it,” she mutters, “this ain’t what we’re here for…” 

“What _are_ we here for, V?” His voice’s a quiet rumble all the way through her body, and his beard pricks her forehead before his lips touch her skin.

“Thought you wanted to apologize,” she mutters, but her heart isn’t in it, and he knows.

“I will,” comes the answer, “one day.”

V chuckles and is glad that it isn’t a sob. “Shoulda gone with the van… Sorry for killin’ the mood.”

She’s made a mess of things yet again, yet the samurai is still _here_. “You have given me something even more precious,” he quietly says, never for a moment letting go of her.

That’s so _sappy_ , and he means every word.   
With a Night City guy, she’d have joked that neither was particularly precious. With Goro… 

V closes her burning eyes, backs off just far enough to move her lips towards his, cheek above the endoskeleton not quite clean-shaven, beard there softer than the rest of it.  
This is so different from the last time they kissed, there is no passion in it at all, he’s not even hard. That moves her to the point of tears again, and she tries to turn up the heat by grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer.

She’s a flashbang, and he doesn’t catch. One of his hands is in her hair, his arm around her waist holding her safely, and when she breaks away to breathe, he only says: “It will be well, V.”

“Died, too, that day,” she whispers, “just as Jackie. Right over there.” _Johnny’s just the pickle on the shit burger._

Goro’s eyes are bright and he looks so happy that it breaks her heart. “Then you are truly free,” he tells her, and V comes undone.

She’s crying like a baby now, and it’s _ugly_ tears since the other kind isn’t real. The loss of her best friend is still so fresh, so _raw_ , and she’s not even begun processing that - is too busy with the dead terrorist who’s turning her brain into mush. 

“Jackie’d have loved havin’ Johnny around,” she wails, and the _unfairness_ of it all is killing her. “If he’d not have pulled out the chip, the Relic would’ve brought _him_ back!”   
_Good job, V, whine to_ Goro _of all people about havin’ it bad._ The inner voice sounds like Johnny again; she can all but see him scoff, even if he’s still omega block’d and would never show empathy with the devil. _Pathetic,_ she’s pathetic; this very second she’s ruining the only good thing that’s happened since she and Jackie…  
_Jaquito…  
_She’s bawling like a fuckin’ siren, _red alert in Konpeki Plaza when he was still alive,_ and she can’t seem to stop. 

And through all that, Goro holds her.

“‘S my fault,” she chokes out while she’s already at it. _Doesn’t matter now. Is for the best if he leaves, better for ‘im._ That makes her sob even harder, especially when he moves, ‘cause that’ll only mean that he’ll walk away now, _which he should, sweet Jesus, Goro, run and don’t look back._   
But instead of being reasonable, the samurai lies down, pulls her on top of him and wraps both arms around her, putting his leg over hers. He’s finally gripping her firmly, and suddenly V feels _safe_ , which opens the floodgates even further. “My fault,” she croaks.   
_Shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have let the gonk talk me into it._ “Called it… called it and went anyway, and now he’s _dead_!” Doesn’t help that she’s gonna join ‘im. Doesn’t help that she’s scared shitless of dying, that she’d chew her own chip slot off if it’d just get Johnny outta her head.

Which it won’t, all it’s gonna do is kill her. They’re both adrift, a corpo dog with his leash cut and a broken sidekick tryin’ to get the job done after the real hero was flatlined.

V’s friends are Jackie’s friends - _were_ Jackie’s friends; ‘course, now they hate her, or maybe they’re too nice for that, but they certainly _should_.   
Goro’s too nice as well, but at least she didn’t get his lover or his buddy killed like with Misty and Vik, _Saburo’s_ really not on her, she wouldn’t even have shot him if she’d had the chance ‘cause that will just get you hunted and killed _like Johnny_. And Yorinobu’s pinning his murder on his father’s bodyguard when the gonk would’ve _died_ for that asshole and thanked him for the privilege, and that’s not fair either, and she can’t stop crying.


	18. The scabbard is missing, the blade gleams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the dam finally breaks, Vee is a leaf in the river of her tears, and all that Goro can do is hold on to her so that she is not washed away.

When the dam finally breaks, Vee is a leaf in the river of her tears, and all that he can do is hold on to her so that she is not washed away. Three times she calms, only to find another wave like a thunderclap out of clear sky. 

In Japan, she would have lost face. Here, in Night City, it is hidden against his throat and no one will ever know. Goro cups her head against him and lets her cry herself empty against his shoulder.

Finally, her breathing calms, the tension drains away and she melts against him, like a kabuki dancer in the third act.

_Let there be a kyū._

He finds his fingers playing with her hair, fascinated by the feathery texture and the softness of her skin. There are no seams on her throat, her pulse the steady beat of a drum.

_Rest now, chrome flower._

The smile comes to his lips unbidden, and there is no reason to rein it in. Goro leans forward to breathe her scent, and when he opens his eyes again, he finds her awake - with the wry smile on her lips that he knows and wants to kiss. 

“What’re you smilin’ at?” she drawls; like steel she has become stronger in the furnace.

“You,” he answers from his true heart, and sees her smile wither like a cherry blossom.

Vee lowers her lashes. “Really shouldn’t, Goro.” Her voice is hoarse.

The affection in her voice is sharper than a tantō, and he much prefers it when she calls his name in ecstasy. “We must talk,” he agrees and takes the hand out of her hair to move it under her shirt.

“What kind of talkin’ are we talkin’ about?” Like a lazy cat, his thief stretches under his touch, but her eyes are still sad.

“Perhaps one after the other,” Goro suggests, leaving the choice to her.   
For once, she seems to feel no urgency, and - ungrateful as that is - he has to admit that he likes this intimacy more. He rests his hand against her back and pulls her against him, heedless of the tear stains on his white shirt - there is something to wear over it once he has washed both.

He kisses Vee when he sees that she’s about to bite her lip again. Her face lights up with the ghost of a smile. “Right… gotta talk,” she agrees, wraps both of her arms around him and buries her face against his shoulder. Her next words are muffled. “This… is a gonk idea. ‘S’gonna end…” Her voice cracks.

Softly, he points out: “Everything ends, Vee.”

She does not look up, face hidden behind a curtain of white-golden hair. “Yeah.” Her body is tense again, and he resolves to remedy this at the soonest opportunity.

“Would you rather not have this?” Goro asks, suspended from the heart. He did not expect the question to choke him so.

This lasts only for a heartbeat, then her grip around him tightens, enough to press the air from his lungs. _She is not fragile,_ he reminds himself while tensing the muscles in his torso against the force of her grip, and pulls her so close that not even water could leak between them.

A second later, they are a tangle of limbs, kissing - and suddenly the urgency is back, and he, too, is on fire.


	19. I Am the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, it's a different kind of urgency and a different kind of need.  
>  _Angsty smut_
> 
> _Halestorm - I Am the Fire_

This time, the buttons of Goro’s shirt come away in a rain of tiny projectiles. “Sorry,” she pants, but he just growls and tears it off, flicking it across the king-sized bed while closing in on her again. It ends up right on top of the little gun and that’s some metaphor for something she can’t deal with right now, maybe never.   
V holds her arms over her head when he removes her top only slightly more carefully, bra going right along with it. 

Rather than turning this into torture by kissing every inch of her, he grips the waistband of her biker pants and meets her eyes even as he yanks her back so he can get her out of her threads.   
That iron self control of his is shattered - or at least on hold - because of _her_ , because he wants her. V eagerly helps, twisting out of the armour and then reaching for his belt - only to find his hands there, and for a moment there are too many of those until she takes hers away.

The samurai’s threads are preem quality and don’t tear, but that’s certainly not ‘cause he’s cautious while getting them out of the way. They’ve had to detangle some to undress, and when she notices that he’s as ready as she is, V all but throws herself at him. 

She’s not quite sure how she ends up under him rather than on top, his thigh between her legs and his hip pressed against her belly. Since that’s about the hottest thing that’s ever happened to her, she moans his name, struggling against his grip just enough to make him _get on with it_. He’s got her pinned, though, and while she could break free - and he’d certainly let go if she tried, no doubt about that — the feeling’s new, and she _likes_ it.   
Being who he is, the fact that she’s dripping wet and all but begging isn’t enough for Goro, and he’s gotta make eye contact before he finally, _finally_ pushes inside.

They both _hold_ right after impact, her limbs wrapped around him, his hair a shroud over her face. For several long heartbeats neither of them moves, then V turns her head just enough to place her lips on the skin of his cheek, right over the endoskeleton.

They hold some more after that. 

The samurai’s breath is hot against her cheek and shoulder, his right arm around her waist; he’s supporting his entire weight with the other. She arches her back to get closer, feeling the tension in his muscles, the quiet rumble - _growl?_ \- under his breath.   
He sighs, or maybe that’s her _name_ , and starts moving.

Due to the angle of her hips there’s next to no friction on her clit, which is the only thing saving her for now, and she doesn’t want to blow up yet ‘cause he likes it slow. 

And then Goro really says her name, clearly this time, almost _reverently_ , and all she can do is whimper in reply like a servo in overdrive, ‘cause suddenly she’s really gotta move for some friction but _also_ needs to cling to him like velcro.

Fortunately, he somehow reads her mind.

The samurai turns both of them around with ease, momentum driving her down on him— 

_let gravity do its thing_

_—_ and then he meets her every motion like they’re parts of an engine, generating a charge that blows them up, together.


	20. Snow from Charcoal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vee's opinion of herself is so low that Goro decides to open up to let her adjust her standards.  
>   
>  _the chapter title refers to the proverb "as different as snow from charcoal"_

Vee takes him with her when she goes, Goro not even trying to last. She sinks on top of him, languid as a dropped scarf, and he can’t help but smile at her little sigh of content. He pulls the blanket over them; it is some sort of plastic fiber, but will keep the chill away.   
His fingers find her hair again, which has become tousled once more in the brief time she has spent on her back, and he begins to remedy that once more. 

For a while, they are at peace.

“Don’t look at me like that,” his thief mutters at one point, and quickly, he averts his eyes.

Rather than for forgiveness, he asks: “How am I looking at you?”

Her voice is hoarse. “Like I’m anythin’ but a mess,” she tells him and clears her throat.

“You are… What is the term? ‘A hot mess,’ at least,” Goro informs her.   
It does not work, she is not even smiling.

But after a second, Vee _laughs_ , and the sound of it breaks his heart. “Yeah, guess I’m good for one thing at least,” she scoffs, and he notices that she understood this wrong - or perhaps the phrase did not mean what he thought it did.

It is easy to remain calm because she is hurting, and he wants to comfort her so much. She has bared so much of herself, exposed her soul to him and trusted him to guard it.   
The least he can do is to be equally forthright.  
“That is one more thing than _I_ am good for,” Goro answers, and it takes effort to keep his voice even.


	21. Brave For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The samurai's _wrong_ , and keeps proving that with every word he's saying. It's that fucked-up honour thing they got goin'.
> 
> _The xx - Brave For you_

The samurai’s voice is always rough — nicely so, the way his hands are not — but never like this, never so chock-full of emotion. That’s usually tucked away behind the stoic facade, and now he’s letting her see, even if his eyes are averted and he’s too close to get a good look at him. _Are you tryin’ to make me feel better about losin’ my shit so completely in front of you?_

V’s heart breaks for him. _An’ you mean that, don’t you? That you’re useless? You gonk._ “You’re good for lotsa things,” she lets him know. “You almost had us, in Konpeki Plaza. Were lookin’ right at me when Saburo called you off.”

Some of the tension drains from his shoulders as if he had needed to hear this. “That is good to hear,” Goro replies, “but it changes nothing.”

“Don’t say that.” She’d like to meet his eyes, but something tells her he’d only look away. “You’re gonna find Hanako. She’s gonna listen to you, and then you’ll be back with ‘Saka again. ‘S gonna be okay — you’ll be a hero for takin’ down Yorinobu.” _Another corpo will hold your leash, and I’ll never see you again,_ and fuck but it _hurts_. 

There is a quiet chuckle, like a tiny earthquake under her. “I will not be a hero.” Her input takes a deep breath, almost a sigh, and when he speaks on, he sounds lonely - or perhaps bitter. “If I am remembered at all, it will be for my failure.”

“But that’s not fair,” she tells him again like an idiot because the world doesn’t care, never has, never will. “You’re… you’re a great guy. You’ve got so much to give!”

Another chuckle, and this time he looks at her, head propped on his elbow, and V grabs a fistful of blanket to improvise a pillow while she’s watching him speak.   
“What would this be? Even if Hanako-sama would give me back my honour… What could I offer someone like you?”   
_Someone like you_.   
As if she was anything but a dumpster fire.   
_As if._   
“I don’t have money,” he continues, “and even if I had… No woman should have to marry a man who lives as the shadow of another.”

_Marry?_

V’s internal organs rearrange themselves via a series of somersaults, then bounce back.

 _Did he say_ marry _??_

Goro’s smile is a sad one as he breaks eye contact again. “And perhaps she will not do so. My life ended when Saburo-sama’s did.”

Rather than addressing anything he just said, V’s dorph-addled brain latches on to the most irrelevant part of his sentence, goes straight for the screamsheet question. “Did… you say marry?” she feeps.

The samurai looks away, and his face becomes still like smartglass on standby. How he can be so close and yet so distant is beyond her, and she could kick herself for asking.  
“I... spoke in general,” he replies, stiffly.

“I’m not the marryin’ type anyway,'' she reassures him just so he stops being awkward.  
“That’s just… bettin’ half of your stuff that you’re gonna love someone forever.” V smirks, nudges him to draw his attention. “Gonk idea…”

It doesn’t work, she’s clearly lost him. “‘Half of my stuff’?”

 _As if I’d needed another reminder why this ain’t gonna fly._ “... when the divorce comes?” It takes effort to hold up the smile, make light of this, because the samurai’s face is no longer expressionless, and V has no idea what it shows. 

“I can not bet half of nothing,” he states after a heartbeat with a firm little nod of his head. “Forgive me, V. I spoke out of turn.”  
Before she can reassure him that he really didn’t, he shuts her up with a kiss, then cups her head against his throat, the endoskeleton’s plating familiar against her skin.  
“When I was a boy, I knew that I would one day be married, just like my parents and my grandparents.” His voice sounds as if he’s idly musing, and suddenly, half of nothing doesn’t sound like a bad deal at all. “It was the way of things.”

 _Never mentioned your mom,_ it doesn’t need saying, ‘cause some things are the same all across the world. 

“When Arasaka chose me, my future changed — like writing on water. I never had cause to regret this.” 

_Until now,_ he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to: it’s her turn to interrupt him now, and for a while they’re just kissing.  
V’s fine with that. It’s safer.


	22. Moon On the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather than berating him for mentioning a future that they cannot have, Vee asks after the worst case, and Goro tells her.

Vee knows how to close a light mouth, and Goro has never appreciated her more. 

_What a cruel thing to mention - the future._

After a while of that, the merc rests her head on his shoulder, fingers playing with a strand of his hair. There is a little frown on her face while she is working through something, and he only hopes that it is not his earlier folly.  
“Said that Hanako might not want you back…?” she eventually inquires. 

_I said that. Yes._ “I have let her father die,” he explains.

“But he _ordered_ you to leave the room?” 

_This is my shame._ Goro can only nod.

She props up her chin on the back of her hand, eyes hard for a second before they turn more thoughtful. “Think… you’d be a reminder? Of what Yorinobu did?”

There are many answers here, and most of them are not his to give. “Perhaps,” he evades the question. 

“An’... what’s gonna happen, if…?” 

Her voice cracks, and he smiles at her as if he had nothing to lose.  
_I_ have _nothing to lose._ “I will die,” he reminds her, as gently as he can. 

“Makes two of us,” she whispers and buries her face against his neck once again.

_One open lotus, grasping life._

“I need you to live, Vee. That has not changed.” Goro cups her head against him and places his lips on her jaw, breathing her in.

“And me? Do you think I don’t need you…?!” 

It is another cry to the heavens, this sentence, cut off as it is.   
_The heart should break but once._  
“Vee,” he says, at a loss for words, and she reacts like she usually does in situations such as this one — with desperate passion.

The fact that such situations are usual at all is the only incentive Goro needs to match her.


	23. I’m Not An Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The samurai brings up the talk that V's been avoiding for hours, and it doesn't go like she thought it would.  
>  _Halestorm - I'm Not An Angel_

Much later, they’re lying in bed, tangled up like discarded neuralware. Goro appears just as spent as she is, cat eyes half-closed; she has the distinct impression that with his chrome he’d be the last man standing — rather than going down with her. 

“It is good to see you smile, V.”

She tilts her head up to look at the samurai, and finds his eyes bright, smiling back at her. V cranes her neck to kiss him, and he pulls her against him once more.  
It’s just a single thought to send him the code to her apartment, and his optics glow red for a heartbeat before he tilts his head. “What code is this?”

“Thought, if you’d like a shower and I wasn’t home…” She can feel her face twisting into a wry grin before she hides it against his neck once more.

Briefly, his grip around her tightens. “Is one time not enough?” Goro asks, and she can’t tell for shit if he’s talking about using her bathrooms or the Arasaka assassins. _Probably the latter._

“Nah,” she drawls, meeting his gaze, just in time to see his smile change: the laughter fades from his eyes. 

“We still have not talked,” he observes. 

V fights the urge to bury her face, or grind herself against him to keep it that way. “Keep gettin’ distracted…” she mutters.

The samurai cups her face with both hands, the gesture so tender that it could make her cry again if the reservoirs weren’t empty at last. “The most passionate love is secret love,” Goro finally states, and although that’s _so_ straight from a fortune cookie that it’s gotta be one of his sayings, V’s heart skips a beat ‘cause he said _love_.

“So… wanna keep this secret?” She’s not opposed to that at all, actually. The moment Night City sees something nice it wants it back — and she doesn’t want to let go of this, not now, not ever, and it’s gonna _hurt_ when it happens. “Us?” Suddenly, her heart is in her throat, and she licks her lips. “‘S’there’n us?”

His expression turns even softer. “Do you truly have to ask?” He brushes his thumb over her cheekbone. His skin’s a little dry, another sign of Night City’s wear and tear on him.

“Guess so,” she whispers, “yeah. Gotta ask.” It’s suddenly impossible to meet his eyes, but his lips find hers instead — answer enough.

Nonetheless, Goro doubles down, ‘course he does. “There is,” comes his reassurance. “As much as you wish, and we can. There is still time.”

Smiling at him takes effort. “Don’t fall for me, samurai.” _Is just gonna hurt more when you do._

He cups her face once again, makes her meet his eyes. “A warrior never ‘falls’,” Goro tells her, poster gonk of sincerity. “He measures, and then he leaps.”

V has to giggle at that, can’t help it. “Fuck, you totally got it coming,” she mutters and snuggles closer.

“I had hoped you’d see reason,” her mainline agrees. For a moment she’s torn between exasperation and fondness — until he starts to chuckle.


	24. Thunderstruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny's calling it now: V's gonna have her heart broken.

Johnny’s watching V and her corpo dog from the back seat like a kid forced on vacation with the world’s cringiest parents.  
_How the mighty have fallen._  
The two of them are a fucking _Disney_ movie, that’s what they are — although the version that’s armed to the teeth and not singing. _Yet._ V’s basically glowing from the inside, and Takemura… well, he’s not standing out as much with a ‘DIE CORPO PIG’ hoodie instead of a dress shirt, and he looks less annoyed.

 _Jesus H. Christ on a stick. Asshole’s goin’ native._ Looking at V, Johnny can’t quite blame him. She walks with a new spring in her step, swinging her hips in a way that turns heads, and not just that of her input.

The evil emperor’s loyal retainer, abandoning the life he’s led for the love of a beautiful low-born maiden. Like fuckin’ Shakespeare.   
_If this ends in double suicide, I’m gonna be pissed._

At least they aren’t holding hands, but... way they’re moving spells they’re a team, each keeping an eye on the other’s six. _Sappy romance, edgerunner edition._

And of course, Takemura is _escorting_ her back to where they’ve parked their wheels, even holds the door open for her as if she couldn’t tear that right outta the frame with her gorilla arms and as if it wasn’t bright daylight.  
Naturally, instead of bristling as she would with anyone else, V _adores_ it. 

_God, I need a smoke._

Worst thing is that this woulda been right up Alt’s alley. 

_Alt._

Even Rogue’d find them cute. Takemura mentioned that she threw his ass out of the Afterlife, and good on her!   
Though - imagining her sittin’ in a backroom of the bar, no longer walking the edge? Like a sore tooth, Johnny shies away from _that_ thought as well.

Probably best that she retired. There are no old solos - well, with one exception, but nobody’s talking ‘bout _him_ anymore, so he’s likely dead too. _Old age, probably.  
_Not everyone can die young and leave a beautiful corpse, like Johnny. _Wonder what happened to it,_ he muses.

Old — Rogue must’ve gotten _old_. Does she have grey hair?  
It’s not as if he’ll find out; V wouldn’t even get close to any reminder of his old life. Why else would she be avoiding the Afterlife?

Kerry, too. Johnny would bet his gun that _he_ doesn’t have grey hair, though. 

The way the two of them are pushing their way through the crowd on the sidewalk reminds him of her and Blackhand, though.

_Fuck._

Rather than pondering the inevitable demise of his team — _least I buried the band, ‘least Samurai got a pyre high as heaven —_ he turns his attention back to the V and her corpo dog.

Right now, for example, she’s certain that he’s smiling at her although he really isn’t, and that has all sorts of annoying side effects. Butterflies in her stomach, heart beating faster, blood rushing to her cheeks. She used to be uncomfortable with that, in the beginning, then defiant. 

_He’s gonna break her heart._

At least she’s only low-key horny this time.   
‘Course the _feelings_ are worse. 

This must be what Kerry always gushed about. Sappy romance shit. Every time she so much as looks at the ronin, she gets all _mushy_ inside.

V slows down, drifting to the side of the walkway, and without missing a beat, the corpo hitman cuts across to cover her, making it look casual. After glaring the environment into submission, Takemura looks at V.   
“One sec, samurai,” she adds insult to injury and pops a pill. 

Johnny’s glad when it starts kicking in.


	25. You Picked Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When V walks out of the motel, he is still there.  
> When she tells him that she's spilled the beans to Vik, he is still there.  
> When the phone rings and Regina Jones wants her to take out a cyberpsycho, _he is still there._
> 
> _A Fine Frenzy - You Picked Me_  
>  _I really recommend listening to this one, even if you normally don't!_

V swallows the omega blocker dry and can’t help but smile when she feels Goro’s cat eyes on her. _Are you checking me out, or coverin’?_

She can tell the moment the pill kicks in by how something inside of her relaxes, and she falls in next to him.  
He walks between her and the street again, but with the hood up he’s less likely to be recognized, so she lets it slide. _Who’re you kiddin’? He’ll pack you in bubble-wrap within a week if you let him…_

With anyone else, V would hate it. She’d put her foot down so hard that he’d lose toes. Vik wouldn’t dare holding a fucking _door_ open for her.  
She fights the urge to grin like a fool — since they’ve agreed to be discreet… 

“Reminds me,” she drawls, heart in her throat. _Don’t be mad?_ “I… kinda spilled the beans to Viktor.”

“Which beans would that be?” the samurai inquires, and V’s not certain if the metaphor got lost in translation or if he’s being funny again.

“Told him why I needed the ‘ceptive,” she mutters. “Says you’re a lucky guy.” From how her cheeks are burning she can tell that she’s flushing like a Chromanticore ad. 

Goro nods his head. “He is a man of honour,” he just states while they stop at a traffic light. Then: “And your friend.”

 _Vik can keep a secret._ “Jackie’s friend,” she mutters.

“That may be.” He turns towards her, catching her gaze almost despite her will. 

“Walk,” says the traffic light, and they do. V is glad for the opportunity to look somewhere else. 

Her mainline is relentless in his gentle reassurance. “But he cares for you.”

Before V can answer, the phone rings, and she’s never been happier for a well-timed interruption. It’s Regina Jones, Watson’s local fixer. “Got a call,” she informs him and offers him a passive connection so he can listen in.

As always, Regina doesn’t waste breath on a greeting. “Got word of a cyberpsycho attack, all confirmed. It’s right in your neighbourhood. I know you’re working solo now, but… are you nearby, can you take him out?”

V, who has no intention of taking on a fucking cyberpsycho solo, looks to Goro; by contrast, he appears intrigued. “Was on my way somewhere else,” she mutters. _Turn down too many jobs and they’ll be looking for another gonk to take all those eddies_ , “How ‘bout the chrome-bangers?”

“The cavalry’s been delayed,” comes the crisp reply. Regina Jones audibly disapproves of MaxTac’s tardiness. “Or they’re dragging their heels. Either or.”

 _Great._ “What’s the specs?”

“There’s a guy in an exoskeleton running amok. He’s heavily ironed.” The fixer hesitates for a moment. “He’s close to the highway to Northside, but people are gonna get hurt if no one takes him down. Hazard pay, but I need an answer now.”

The samurai nods firmly.

Checking her guns’ ammo status is an automatism that she barely registers by now. “Sure, can do. Send me the detes?”

The woman’s silhouette on the holo nods firmly. “He’d be a great candidate for ‘psycho study if you end this thing with him alive.”

With that, the connection breaks, and V snorts. “She’s almost as funny as you are.”

“What is ‘psycho study?’” Her mainline tilts his head. 

She shrugs, only has a vague idea, actually. “Regina’s working with someone who’s tryin’ to fix them.” 

“I did not know that cyberpsychosis could be cured.”

“Can’t, far as I know,” V mutters. “Don’t come back once you’re hexed. But that don’t stop ‘em from tryin’:”

“Wise,” he remarks. “I can take him out, if you distract him.” With that, the samurai turns on his heel to stride towards the cyberpsycho’s coordinates, passers-by scattering to make room. 

She’s about to hurry after him when she notices him slowing down so she doesn’t have to, and that makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Confidence’s sexy…” she teases, watching his eyes shine brighter at that; but as much as she hates to rain on his parade, she’s not sure if he’s not trying to bite off more than he can chew. “But... last cyberpsycho I took down? Lured ‘er on top of a mine…” 

“We will need no mines between the two of us, V.” 

Goro speaks with such certainty, as if the matter had been discussed and decided for good. _Between the two of us._ Before her heart can turn into a fucking puddle, she grins in his direction. “Spoilin’ for a fight, samurai?”

She dodges half behind him for a moment to stay out of the way of a gonk who’s pushing a trash can across the sidewalk, turns her head just in time to see him nod once more: “This is a good opportunity.”

“Yeah, to get killed...” Those things are _dangerous_ , and V stays the _fuck_ away from them unless she’s geared up to the eartips, and even then she hates it. “Don’t have your chrome, remember.” The last ‘psycho they took out threw a car at Jackie.

_Jackie..._

Apparently, chrome’s irrelevant. “A cyberpsycho fights with a hot temper,” the samurai reassures her. “We do not. This is why we will win.”

“Sure hope you're right,” she mutters. 

“I am.” Goro's smile is so confident that she can't help but believe him. “This is why even after I have taught him everything I know, I am still better than Oda.”


	26. Metal is tested by fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goro and his thief agree on a systematic approach to take out the cyberpsycho.  
> But no plan survives the first encounter with the enemy.

Vee’s step falters, barely noticeable had he not been paying attention. Before the worry in his heart can fully manifest, she gives him a smile like an open gate for good luck. 

“‘Kay.” She meets his eyes for a brief moment, and he wants to be the man she is looking at, no matter who that is. “How’re we gonna play this?” 

“You must distract our target.” It is difficult to keep his own smile inside, but in this city full of _gaijin_ , no one will notice but her. “With your ‘chrome’, you can dodge even bullets, can you not?” 

“Not in the killzone of a shredder, but… yeah? Kinda. ‘S difficult to hit someone fast.” The streets are emptying while they are getting closer to the coordinates of the _gyokusai_. 

Goro nods. “I am not so fast,” he observes and is briefly distracted by the hint of a dimple on her face that he has not seen before. “We must do reconnaissance first.” The stench of the canal - rotten, rather than chemical - gets stronger as they head north, towards the coordinates on his display. 

They turn to the right, walk past billboards and rubble. A hotel sign next to shacks made of corrugated iron is trying in vain to compete with the bright sun overhead; his eyes adjust for contrast and reveal a persistent flicker in the fluorescent tubes of the _ér._   
Despite the bright daylight, the street is deserted, and a crash in the distance explains why. A high-pitched scream follows the noise. It ends abruptly. 

They both start running at the same time. 

And that is when they find him. The cyberpsychocomes crashing through the wall, turning the multifaceted glass into a million shattered jewels. The man’s frame — massive as it already is — is covered in a protective shell that is more mech than exoskeleton. It looks more like a construction tool than a weapon, but it becomes clear that the distinction is academic at best when the man bends over to pick up a car and throw it at the building next to him.

As if on cue, a small child begins to wail somewhere close by, quickly shushed. Reconnaissance will have to be swift.

Vee looks at him and nods. Then she drops to a crouch and catapults herself in the air, launched like an arrow by the force of her metal tendons. She vaults over the metal fence with the grace of a tigress, fingers wrapping around the fence’s top wire, redirecting her trajectory. For a single perfect moment she is weightless, as though suspended among the heavens, and he can only stare.

“Hey, asshole!” his thief calls out. 

The cyberpsycho turns towards her, and Goro starts running.


	27. A Reason To Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V and Goro take on a cyberpsycho, and the poor gonk's thoroughly outgunned. She's had no idea that her mainline could do _that_.

_Distraction, ‘s my middle name._ V can feel her lips twist into a manic grin while she whips out the little gun and starts to empty the entire magazine in the enemy’s general direction. The guy’s huge even without his sardine can, and he carries a shield that weighs more than she does, titanium bones or not.   
His limb reinforcements give him the strength he needs to whip it around in time to intercept the entire salvo, bullets pinging away like pebbles — he’s not as slow as he should be.

Regardless, a whoop of joy escapes her and she lands in a three-point crouch, Kerenzikov and Sandevistan slowing time to a crawl while the enemy brings a... gun? Slug thrower? around that is larger than she is. In bullet time, she can see the muzzle of that thing heating up, power surge building, but when it hits — surge of heat and fire, stench of melting plastic, etc. etc. — V is long gone, darted around the building’s corner, neuralware going dormant.

She’s only semi-concerned about the steel fence behind her — she can jump right over the guy, heart pounding a rhythm against her eardrums that’s nowhere near crescendo yet, and right above her there’s some sort of walkway that’s gonna support her weight long enough to get on the roof.

It feels _good_ to face a foe she can fight. That gonk in his power suit isn’t a fucked-up double bind like Johnny, no fucking _computer_ stuff in her head that is killing her with software bugs. He’s just an asshole in a do-it-yourself mech suit, and Goro says he can kick his ass, so all V has to do is keep him distracted. 

The cyberpsycho roars again while she tucks the little gun away to cock the big one, and when the man bends around the corner of the building, weapon already glowing, she’s got the double-barrelled shotgun level with his face and the neuralware up and running again. His shield’s up, but she can easily sidestep that.

He’s faster than a guy his size should be, so he doesn’t end up with his brains blown out — but that doesn’t matter much, ‘cause when he flinches away from her shotgun blast, her input hits the gonk from behind like a bombshell. The ammunition’s chemical stench rises up like a promise: _Time to fuck up some gonks._

Her shot, and whatever Goro has done to the exoskeleton’s leg, are enough to stagger their mark, and V steps back to reload the big gun. Her hands are doing that on their own, so she gets to watch while the samurai calmly demolishes an enemy who’s so far out of his weight class that it’s not even funny.

Her input isn’t faster than the other guy. He doesn’t pack any neuralware V’s eyes could scan, and he certainly doesn’t move like he’s got any. Instead, he’s _efficient_.  
Everything he does is carefully measured - he’s able to dodge in time because he never moves any more than he has, and she can’t help but stare. _How the fuck._ Goro is smiling slightly, eyes bright; he’s drop-dead gorgeous that way.

The second attack is a kick, aimed at the side of the ‘ganic knee, straight past the mechanical one. V’s heard the sound before: with a whip-like _snap_ tendons and knee joint are bent in a direction that they’re not designed for, and since the ‘ganic leg controls the mech, the entire suit goes down. 

With a scream of rage, the cyberpsycho abandons his gun to swing at his opponent — who takes a single step to the side. The absence of a target together with the busted leg causes the wannabe tank to overbalance, and Goro leans in and yanks a wrist-thick cable out of the frame. Something in the back starts to throw sparks, and the gonk roars again, sounding a lot more frustrated this time, teeth bared. They’re bloody.

The exomech’s moving more sluggishly now, part of it being on fire like that, and the next thing to go is the man’s elbow, sharing the fate of his knee, calmly reduced by a well-placed chop. V is in awe — this, right here, is a thing of beauty.

Of course it doesn’t last.

It’s the lack of chrome, must be. The cyberpsycho swings his shield at Goro, and he’s just a tad too slow to dodge, so the shield connects with his torso, flat side first. A full-on hit would’ve sent him flying, so this can only have grazed him; even so she can _hear_ it: cartilage tears, ribs are breaking, his breath is forced from his lungs. 

_You caught that why didn’t you dodge oh Jesus why didn’t you—_

The beat her heart’s just skipped is all the time she needs to activate both of her implants, put the big gun on the gonk’s forehead, angle it away from her samurai, and pull the trigger.

The thunder of her iron almost deafens her. The double cartridge’s propelled forward, meets brittle bone and soft skull sponge and explodes, turning both into minced meat, shrapnel style. The cyberpsycho drops, together with his tin can. The impact is hard enough to trigger the stabilizers in her ankles, then it’s quiet. 

V fully expects to hear a second body hit the ground.

Instead, her mainline draws a sharp breath, and her head whips around. He’s grimacing, but she’s never seen him in pain before and can’t tell if it’s that or… embarrassment? Then it’s gone; he inhales once more before he spits on the floor and studies the result.

“I will live,” he tells her. 

Fighting tears should be easier: V is a merc, tough as nails, and her reservoirs are empty. “Fucking shit, Goro,” she whispers.

And the samurai, who’s just shrugged off a blow that might’ve killed him, takes her hands in his and smiles.


	28. A stone Jizō

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vee does not approve of broken ribs.
> 
> _A wasp on a stone[Jizō](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C5%8Dgy%C5%AB_Jiz%C5%8D): A temple statue shows no pain_

Vee’s hands are colder than the autumn wind, her face white as snow — and secret love or not, the only reason that Goro does not pull her in his arms is the amount of pain he’s in.

He inhales and acknowledges the pain. It is not as if he has any choice in this matter. Night City reeks even worse where he is standing. Burning plastic, gunpowder, smoldering electronics, and over everything, blood.

_Exhale. Let go._

“I will be well.” Keeping his upper body still, he lowers his head, not breaking eye contact. Her optics are shining, but even as he watches her she blinks furiously to clear them.

“Damn right you will. ‘Cause I’m taking you to Viktor _right now_.” She glares at him. “Can you walk?”

 _Inhale. Exhale. Let go._ “It is just ribs, Vee,” he tells her with his most reassuring smile. “Thank you for… having my back.”

“Any time,” she replies, still looking at him as if he had eaten the autumn eggplants. “But if you ever do that again, broken ribs are gonna be the least of your problems!”

Goro would like to chuckle to diffuse the situation, but knows from experience that it is a very bad idea. Instead, he shifts his grip on her hands, inviting her to turn and walk with him. She complies, lets go of his hands to pick up her shotgun, the chemical stench of the propellant growing stronger.

It is a quarter of a _ri_ to the clinic, perhaps a little more. If he does not move his torso, there is barely any pain, and together they walk back towards the city. “This is a fine weapon,” he remarks while nodding to her gun.

As he thought, her face lights up and she adjusts the strap against her shoulder to let him see. “Wilson made ‘er for me,” Vee explains. “Found a blueprint how to mod a Tactician, so I took that to my expert, and what can I say? She’s awesome.”  
He tilts his head. “Wilson?”  
Vee laughs. “No, the gun! Wilson’s a guy.”

“Another Night City original.” The compliment is not lost, and her glower softens a little. “Should you call your fixer back?”

Her blue eyes gleam red for a moment, then she smirks. “Texted her.” There’s another flash when she receives an answer, and she smiles. Then she offers him a transfer of data. 

When Goro accepts, he finds a stream of eurodollars pouring in. The number stays below four digits, but only just.

“Your share,” his thief just tells him, and he’s about to speak up to protest — he does not want her money, does not want her _pity_ , even if he needs both.   
But then she flashes a brittle smile and adds one word: “Partner.” 

This moment, too, will give him courage in the days to come. “Partner,” he agrees, surprised by the sudden urge to squeeze her hand. 

Vee’s smile is crooked as a folding screen while she walks next to him, thumbs hooked into the pockets of her armoured synth leather pants.   
Focussing on his breath — _inhale,_ pain _, exhale pain_ — Goro remains silent, watchful of their surroundings.

“‘M sorry for botchin’ your first gig,” Vee eventually volunteers.

“Botching?” He does not turn towards her, looks in her general direction. “You took down the cyberpsycho.”

The thief sounds unhappy. “Regina wanted us to take ‘im alive. And you could’ve. Didn’t get the bonus ‘cause of me.”

Goro stops and turns towards her, and like the other sleeve, so does Vee.  
“I did not fight him for the money,” he reminds her with a smile.

“Then why?” She frowns at him, then gestures and moves on.

“Oda,” he points out. 

From her irritated frown, that does not make it clear. 

“He is a skilled warrior. Oda will not stray far from Hanako-sama’s side.”

“Yeah, and now you’re injured!” She glares at him. “He’s gonna skrag you so hard…” Her voice cracks and she looks away.

“There is still time, Vee. I will be well.” He tries to speak gently, reassuringly.

“Sure you will. Vik’s gonna see to that.”   
She’s so certain of this that Goro merely bows his head. There are thirty-six plans to fight, and in this battle, surrender is the best of them.


	29. Still Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's about to close up when there's an unexpected visit. 
> 
> _Credit Roll: Three Doors Down - Still Alive_

Viktor’s about to close up for the afternoon when he hears the door open. Rolling around to check out the unexpected visitor, he keeps one hand on the gun at his side. _Wasn’t expectin’ anyone…_

“Hey, Vik!” It’s V, and the sudden spike of concern evens out when he notices that she sounds… _happy?_ “Wanted me to visit more often…” She walks around the corner, and he takes the hand from his gun to smile at her. “This a social visit, or—?” he begins, then sees who she’s brought. He has to fight laughter at Takemura’s choice of clothing: the man is wearing a hoodie that spells ‘DIE CORPO PIG’, and from the look on his face, he’s doing it unironically. “Been teaching him to blend in, I see.” With a smile, he steps back to usher them in.

Takemura bows again, that stickler. “It is camouflage,” he explains, and it’s either the most deadpan delivery ever, or he’s serious. _Impossible to tell with that one._ “It is good to see you, Viktor-san.”

V saunters over to the operating table, then reconsiders and veers off to the right towards the counter, her companion following a few steps behind her like a shadow. “Goro beat up a cyberpsycho,” she tells him, and the last time he’s heard that tone of voice from her she was holding a living iguana. “Unarmed!” Then her face dims. “Just… caught a blow, and… well, we’re on a schedule, so…”

Viktor shakes his head. “Can’t think of many dumber things to do,” he mutters to no one in particular, “but I reckon you’ll have done those, too.” Still. It’s kinda nice to see the kid so smitten.

Takemura glances at V. “How about stealing from Arasaka?” he asks innocently, earning an amused snort from her while she sits on the counter to the side, shoving the monitor out of the way. 

_Just sold yourself to ‘em, no biggie,_ Viktor thinks, but doesn’t open that can of worms. “Siddown, I’ll have a look,” he offers as he closes up behind them, making sure the clinic is secure before starting to prepare.

V draws her feet up on his counter, is about to sit cross-legged, then reconsiders before he has to clear his throat. Takemura makes his way over to the surgery table as if he wasn’t hurt at all, sheds the heavy coat and the hoodie. His white shirt has suffered a wardrobe malfunction; the buttons seem to have gone missing. “It is not bad,” he explains. “Perhaps a few ribs. My lung has not been pierced.”

Viktor nods as he washes his hands, before laying out all the equipment he’d started to put away. “Got off lightly, cyberpsychos are no joke,” he muses as he checks the man’s vitals and runs a full scan. 

“Shoulda seen him!” The kid’s so excited that he feels a tug on his heartstrings. “The guy was thrice his weight and he just… turned him into a slag heap!” 

“V drew his attention,” Takemura explains, and Viktor can’t read him at all. “I was inside his range before he could react.”

 _Wasn’t askin’, but alright._ Still, he’d be lying if he said they weren’t… ‘cute’ isn’t the word he’d use, but something in that general vicinity. V certainly hasn’t looked this happy since before Jackie, if ever. The self-diagnosis has been spot-on, yet the bruises look spectacular, and it probably hurts like hell. If her sharp breath is any indication, V hasn’t seen this before either. “Couple of broken ribs, nothin’ too bad,” Viktor comments as he zooms in on the x-ray.

The two of them exchange a look he pretends not to notice; it looks suspiciously like an ‘I told you so’. Makes a guy feel like a third wheel---not like V and Jackie, not even like Jackie and Misty, _because Takemura isn’t Jackie and why are you doing this to yourself?_

Viktor rummages through a drawer and, once he’s sure that his face is back under control, hands his patient an inhaler. “Here, use this three times a day,” he explains. “No strenuous activity for a few days”—he gives V a meaningful look—”an’ you should be good as new by the end of the week.”

Alas, meaningful looks are wasted on her. “End of the week?” she asks, pitch of voice slipping outta the merc persona just long enough to remind him how young she is. “You sure? Could also just… switch ‘em out?”

“The end of the week will be well.” Takemura at least seems to get it; he uses the inhaler, then remains still for a few heartbeats before exhaling and putting on his _camouflage_ again.

Viktor shakes his head. “It’ll heal up before you know it — I'm not replacin’ perfectly good ribs unless it’s life or death.” 

“Well, it _is_!” V glares at both of them from her perch on the counter. Viktor can’t help but chuckle at the earnest reaction. _C'mon, kid, you walked right into that one._ He flashes her a smirk and cocks an eyebrow. 

This time she gets it, groaning in exasperation. “Oh, you _gonks!_ ”

That actually draws a chuckle from Takemura, broken ribs or not. _He’s got some pain tolerance at least._

“I was talking about _actual_ life or death situations here!” V glances at him, tilts her head. “Ish,” she adds sheepishly.

“Hm?” Vik queries as he starts putting his tools away. “If there’s somethin’ I don’t know, do tell.” He watches the emotions play across her face, trying to piece together what feels like an entire layer of this conversation he’s missing. She’s on the clock, of course; he knows _that_ much. But if there’s anything in particular happening over the next three days, he at least has not been made aware. 

At least she’s _here_ rather than avoiding him the way she used to The last few weeks, Viktor’s felt as if he’d lost them both, V and Jackie. With Lupe putting off processing _anything_ until after her son’s _ofrenda,_ and Misty soldiering on despite the mascara trails on her cheeks, all _he’s_ done is work.

The two of them exchange another glance, then Takemura nods his head, face opaque. V’s looking increasingly conflicted, but in the end she nods as well. “‘Kay,” she mutters. “You know about that parade in Japantown? Middle next week?”

“Mm,” he replies noncommittally; doesn’t like where this is going. Knowing V, it’s nothing good, and the fact Takemura is involved screams _Arasaka_.

“We… need to get Goro on one of those floats so he can talk to Hanako Arasaka.” She smiles pretty much the exact smile she had before Konpeki Plaza: “Got a plan and all.”

She looks so confident, as if it was a good plan when they both know it’s not. Viktor pushes the glasses up into his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose. This is all starting to sound a bit too familiar. “M’sure it is,” he murmurs, plays along _again_ , eyes shut against the rush of deja-fucking-vu that is her smile. “Still, that’s next week,” he adds, clinging to the one bit of tangible information that doesn’t make him want to scream.

“This is true.” Takemura has his coat back on and slings an automatic rifle over his shoulder that suggests he’s never even heard of overkill. “The plan is not as desperate as it sounds. We have prepared well.” V snorts. “Yeah, we’ve got top-shelf netrunning skills,” she quips, and while it’s good to see her joking… It’s all a bit too close to the bone, and Viktor looks away, trying to think about anything other than her and Jackie preparing for the heist. She was smiling the same way then; Jackie had reassured him everything would be fine. Takemura is older, should know better—and yet here they are. “Not my business,” he replies and bites his tongue. She won’t listen anyway.

“I will wait outside.” With another bow, Takemura withdraws. He’s let himself out before, while they were waiting for the kid to wake up. V slips from the table and hits the ground with a ‘thunk’. Viktor knows that she’s going to delta now, _and fuck knows if she’ll come back this time._ He looks up at the ceiling,

The hug comes as a surprise, but not an unwelcome one; he wraps his arms around her and takes a deep breath. “No point lecturin’ you, is there?” he murmurs, his heart clenching. This could be the last time he sees her, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Then again, that’s been the case for some time now…

He can count the times they’ve hugged until now on one hand and have fingers to spare. 

This time, V hides her face against his shoulder. “‘Least _he_ knows it’s a gonk idea,” she mutters. “Still… ain’t exactly like we have any options…”

A dry chuckle rumbles through his chest at the words. “That’s… comfortin’,” he replies dryly. But she’s right and they both know it—options are thin on the ground, and growing thinner by the day. Still… sneaking onto the ‘Saka float at their own fucking parade? Next-level stupidity, that. “But hey, you’ve made a good livin’ of bein’ a gonk, so who knows,” he teases and steps back, smoothing his hands up and down her arms. “Might just work.”

“My thoughts exactly…” She steps away and smiles wryly, and whatever she’s been up to in the last few days, it’s been good for her. ”You add it to my tab? ‘M gonna cover it.”

He only laughs, waving her away. “You an’ your tab…” As if this is about the money, or has ever been. “Just don’t get yourself killed, kid. That’ll do.” It’s a tall order and he knows it, but even now the thought of her being gone isn’t something he can make his peace with.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me… Goro’s got that white knight complex,” she jokes and turns to leave. “I’ll be fine.”

 _S’what got Jackie killed_ , he thinks but doesn’t say it, pushes the shades back down instead. “See you around, kid.”

“See ya, Vik,” she drawls and saunters out like it’s _before_ : a slip of a girl in biker gear, deceptively fragile. For a moment, he pretends Jackie’s waiting outside, kicking his red-and-black bike into gear when he sees her. V hops on her yellowjacket Arch, then they pull the gas like the gonks they are and thunder off, alive and well, both of them.

Suddenly, Viktor doesn’t feel like going home anymore. He locks up the clinic and turns the TV on with a thought, heads to the cabinet where he stashes his booze.

 _Takemura, of all people._ He shakes his head.

He’d been saving this whiskey for… what, again? V smiling like that, it seems. Viktor raises his glass, paying little attention to the TV. _Here’s to you, kid. And your man._


	30. Glory To The Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After parting from her mainline, V returns home. But in the lift she receives a phone call that she really can't deal with right now, and this time, Mama Welles doesn't hang up...
> 
> _Credit Roll: Hammerfall - Glory To The Brave_

V’s still smiling when she walks into the megabuilding’s lift. Goro had insisted on paying Viktor with the few eddies she’d managed to slip him, and the look on his face when she told him what Viktor’s price was… _cute? Fuck’s sake._  
V kicks the mesh door in the right place to unstick it, then presses the button on the touch panel. The TV still hasn’t been repaired, so this is gonna be a dull trip indeed.

Or at least, that’s what it looks like, right until her comm goes. The logo of _El Coyote Coyo_ flashes on her screen, the cow skull over three red roses.

_Mama Welles._

Having nowhere to run, she closes her eyes and imagines riding Baby along the overpass high above Night City, three AM in August where she’s got the streets to herself, driving right towards the stars.

The electronic jingle goes off once more.

The lift has never moved more slowly, and she can’t _breathe_ , needs a cigarette, and—

It’s ringing again.

She wants to call Goro, hear his voice. If he tells her to pick up the phone, be strong, she can— 

Three times before, Mama Welles has hung up eventually. Twice, she has texted. This time, she seems committed. The sound’s resonating in her skull, and no amount of wishing makes it go away.

_I can’t breathe._

“Hey, V.” 

Johnny pops out of the back of her head with the aroma of leather, whiskey and tobacco like the fuckin’ cliché he is. He’s in front of her, close enough that she should feel even more cornered, but she doesn’t.

The comm in her head goes off again.

Her tapeworm takes off his aviators, and they vanish. Suddenly there’s a cigarette clasped between his fingers, and as soon as the smoke spreads through the lift’s cabin — even if it’s just in her head — V can breathe again.

Another ring, relentless, without mercy.

“Pick up the phone, V.”

“I— I can’t,” she manages to choke out.

“You can. You’re a big girl.” He doesn’t sound condescending at all, which would confuse the fuck outta her if she wasn’t already freaking out. 

_You don’t understand!_ “That’s Jackie’s _mom_!”

Johnny’s eyes are brown like chocolate, and warm even in the neon light of the lift. For once, he’s not squinting, or sneering, and he looks… handsome. _Kind._ “Lemme take the wheel. I’ll talk to her.” His voice’s reassuring, a lazy drawl. _Didn’t know you could be like this._

V wants nothing as badly as that. _But if I do that, then… it’s a slippery slope! He’ll just kick me out, and—_

Panic chokes her, and the phone rings, and V folds like a switchblade.

**Author's Note:**

> ## Theme Songs
> 
> ### Goro:
> 
>   * Sumie - Night Rain
>   * Chasing Mirrors - Hokage's Rising
> 

> 
> ### V
> 
>   * Pain feat. Anette Olzon - Follow Me
>   * The xx - Brave For You
> 

> 
> ### V and Goro
> 
>   * Leander Rising - Between Two Worlds and I
>   * Bo Bruce - Lightkeeper
>   * Ida Maria - Devil _Thanks to Just Another Snake Cult!_
>   * I found - Amber Run (thanks, RyynStrange!) 
>   * Rise Above This - Seether (thanks, RyynStrange!)
>   * Lady with the Braid - Dory Previn _content warning, this would probably be played on Takemura's radio station_
>   * Cigarettes After Sex - Falling In Love
>   * Sick Puppies - White Balloons
>   * Lana Del Rey - Born To Die
>   * Tom Keifer - Thick And Thin
>   * My Darkest Days - Without You
> 

> 
> ### Johnny
> 
>   * Sebastian Bach - Love is a Bitchslap (Vocals: Johnny Siilverhand & Kerry Eurodyne)
> 

> 
> ### Johnny and V
> 
>   * Bo Bruce - Speed the Fire
>   * Daughter - Youth
>   * Steelheart - We all die young
>   * She Wants Revenge - Tear You Apart
>   * The Doors - You're Lost Little Girl
>   * Birdie - Silhouette
> 



End file.
